


The Thrill of Agony and the Victory of Defeat

by dizzily



Series: Late AU [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Arguing, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Dark, Dark Armitage Hux, Dark Kylo Ren, Dubious Consent, Fighting, Hux is Not Nice, Kissing, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M, Not a Romance Novel, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Slow Burn, Violence, relationship story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-03 04:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 53,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzily/pseuds/dizzily
Summary: Newly equals Supreme Leader and Grand Marshal, Ren and Hux planned to rule the galaxy side by side, but less than a week later everything falls apart. With each coming to the painful conclusion that the other must die in order for the First Order to succeed, Hux and Ren set out to do away with everything that keeps them from domination of the galaxy - even if that means each other. As they seek to destroy Luke Skywalker and the remains of the Resistance, their relationship deteriorates further. Will their shared experiences be enough to save their relationship - and their lives?Sequel to Close Proximity





	1. One: Ren

**Author's Note:**

> So...I guess it was inevitable that there would be a sequel. This one is a little longer. Enjoy! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This first chapter spoils the ending of Close Proximity. Just thought you should know...

Not even a week had passed since the morning Armitage Hux had brought the bowl of noodle soup to Supreme Leader Kylo Ren in his bedroom, but it seemed like longer. Ren and Hux had spent hours together every day: making arrangements for the present, planning for the future, arguing over power, and having sex. Lots of the arguing—less of the sex.

On this particular afternoon, Ren found himself standing in the corner of Hux's brightly illuminated bedroom. He was rarely in Hux's quarters, but he had been summoned here the moment Hux had seen him step onto the bridge. The bedroom, like the rest of Hux's quarters, was neat and tidy, orderly, and sparsely decorated. There was a personal touch here, another there, but nothing out of place. Being here always made Ren want to knock something over or tilt a piece of artwork to make it hang crooked.

Hux opened the closet on the far side of the bedroom and took out, of all things, an ironing board. "You're kidding," Ren said.

"This is the second day you've worn that uniform jacket, and it is _wrinkled_ ," Hux said. "I understand. You're used to the robes and the cowls, but you chose a new uniform, and you're not going to wear it without ironing it. I bet you just tossed it on the floor when you took it off last night."

Ren, who had indeed tossed the uniform jacket on the floor last night, didn't say anything. He looked at the ironing board. He was trying to remember whether either of his parents had ever ironed a piece of clothing.

"Take off the jacket," Hux said. "Let me see what fabric it is."

Ren eased down the front zipper. He had chosen for himself a uniform that looked very similar to Hux's on top, minus the fancy belt, but with reasonable trousers and boots that didn't shine in the light. Wearing glossy boots was just asking for extra work; they would get smudged and smeared and—

"Just take off the jacket," Hux interrupted. He had been less patient lately.

Ren unzipped the jacket, eased it off down his arms, and handed it to Hux. He stood in his black sleeveless undershirt and watched Hux inspect the jacket. "How can you tell what fabric it is?" he asked.

"Sometimes garments come with tags that give you that information." Hux must be searching for a tag. It was a custom designed shirt, not something that could be bought at a store. There would be no tag. "And sometimes you just have to know your fabrics. Ah...cotton or a cotton blend. I'll put the iron on medium just in case. I don't want to melt your shirt—and you don't either. Pay attention!"

"I am!" Ren said.

"You want the fabric to be slightly damp when you iron." Hux handed over a small white spray bottle with what must be water in it. "Spray the jacket."

Ren wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn't. He hated being told what to do. "Can't the laundry droids just do this for me?" he asked. He sprayed the jacket.

"The laundry droids cannot do a thing when you leave your uniform on the floor overnight," Hux said. He laid the jacket on the ironing board. Then he picked up the iron, showed Ren the heat setting, and laid out the upper portion of the jacket on the ironing board. "Collar first."

"I thought you called me down here to talk strategy again," Ren said. He watched Hux iron the collar. He was sure he could command a laundry droid to come to his quarters every morning and iron his clothes for him. The trousers were new this morning; yesterday's trousers were still somewhere on the floor. They would probably need ironing, too. Tomorrow he'd be getting that lesson.

"You have been too unreasonable to talk strategy," Hux said. "Are you feeling more reasonable now?"

" _I_ 've been unreasonable?" Ren said. That was ridiculous. If anyone had been unreasonable, it was Hux.

"Then you iron the shirt front," Hux said. "If you had cuffs, you would iron those before the front. So what do we do first?"

"The collar," Ren said.

"I meant our strategy," Hux said.

"We do Luke first. We have the map. We kill the last Jedi and that's it," Ren said. That much was simple to him. After that, only the remains of the Resistance would stand in the way of ruling the galaxy. And with both of his parents out of the picture—he still had moments when he couldn't quite believe he had killed them—along with most of the Resistance's best fighters, there wasn't much of the Resistance left to destroy.

"If you had buttons, you would iron around the buttons with the point of the iron. Never iron over the buttons." Hux avoided the zipper with the iron. "How many stormtroopers do we take with us to the planet where he's hiding? We should have at least—"

"None," Ren interrupted. He bristled with irritation. They had gone through this same discussion more than once. He had thought that they would be equals after their agreement to be Supreme Leader and Grand Marshal, but it hadn't gone the way he had planned. Hux had tried to take all the meaningful and interesting responsibilities for himself and had deceived Ren in how everything was going to work. Ren had been foolish, but he had expected Hux to listen to him when he talked.

"That's ridiculous. We can't expect to defeat Skywalker with just the two of us." Hux set the iron down on the ironing board and adjusted the jacket so that the other side of the front was at the top of the ironing board. "Your turn. Start at the top. Smooth the fabric with the iron. Leave the zipper alone." He stepped back from the ironing board.

Ren knew he wouldn't get away until he could prove that he was capable of using an iron. "I don't even have an iron," he protested.

"You have a portable iron and an ironing board in your bedroom closet," Hux said. "They come standard in all officers' quarters. You just haven't looked. Have you even opened the closet?"

"I haven't lived in these quarters for more than a week," Ren said in his defense. He had opened the closet, but only one side. Hux was probably right and there were iron and ironing board on the other side of the closet. He would have to slide the door in the opposite direction.

"I'm sure the officers' quarters on the _Finalizer_ were the same," Hux muttered. "Now, the jacket."

Ren picked up the iron. It was heavier than he'd expected it to be; he should have expected a large hunk of hot metal with a handle to weigh this much. "This is not portable," he said. "That's ridiculous."

"No, _this_ one is not," Hux said.

Before Hux could chide him again, Ren laid the iron down at the top of the jacket, just below the collar. He brought the iron down slowly over the fabric. The gliding sensation felt strange under his hand. With great care, he avoided the zipper with the iron. He finished the entire front side of the jacket and laid the iron down on the board again.

"Now the back, top to bottom," Hux said. "You haven't answered me," he added while Ren was attempting to adjust the jacket across the ironing board.

"You didn't ask me a question," Ren said. He finally got it positioned so that the fabric was smooth and started with the iron at the top.

"Why do you insist that we find Skywalker alone?" Hux asked. "There's no way we can defeat him without support." He grabbed Ren's wrist. "You'll leave burn marks on the shirt if you press that hard. Let me show you how to iron the sleeves. You have to make sure they're smooth on the ironing board before you touch them with the iron."

Hux spent an inordinate amount of time demonstrating exactly how to iron the sleeves. Each one he smoothed carefully with his hand until there were no wrinkles, and then pressed the sleeve with the iron. Ren didn't complain; complaining would make this lesson last longer. He would order a laundry droid to iron his uniform for him every morning and Hux need never know.

Hux picked up the jacket and handed it back to Ren. "Never come onto the bridge in a wrinkled jacket again."

Ren carefully donned his slightly damp jacket. "I have to face him alone," he said, picking up where they had left off. It was the truth.

"Then why are you bringing me along?" Hux asked.

"Not for backup, obviously," Ren muttered sarcastically, zipping the jacket all the way up to the collar.

Hux hit him, his fist making contact with the still-tender scar on Ren's cheek, and Ren felt his eyes water with pain and surprise. He recoiled in shock and confusion and pressed his palm to his cheek. What puzzled him was that a similar comment would have earned him little more than an eye-roll two weeks ago. Something had changed and he didn't know what or when or why.

"I thought you were tougher than that," Hux said scathingly.

Ren decided that he wasn't going to allow himself to be treated like this without retaliation. The pain reminded him of the darkness that was his power. "Let me do the same to you and we'll see your reaction," he said.

"I wouldn't _cry_ ," Hux said.

Ren gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. He imagined punching Hux in the face, everything from the sound of contact to the bruise his fist left behind, from the blood dripping from Hux's nose to the way he cupped his face in pain. Then he opened his eyes. "I'm going. I have to face Luke alone. I thought we were partners. I thought you would _want_ to come with me. If you don't...."

"You need backup," Hux said. "If you won't take stormtroopers, you get me instead. And don't say a word about that. I can shoot a blaster and I've proven that I'm not afraid to kill people. You, on the other hand, with your _feelings_.... I wouldn't trust you as my backup if it mattered."

Ren did want Hux to come with him, though at this moment he couldn't fathom why. What had gotten into Hux? "Don't you have somewhere to be?" he asked. Hux always had somewhere to be.

"We're not done here."

Ren's patience ended. "Yes, we are. We're done." He let the words stand, let Hux wonder about their meaning. "I'll give you two days for planning, and then we leave. We've waited too long already." And with that, he turned and marched out of Hux's quarters. He couldn't interact with Hux any more right now. He had to keep himself under control. He needed some time alone.

Back in his own refresher, he turned on the sonic shower and looked into the mirror. There was no bruise yet, and he hoped there wouldn't be one later. He already had a scar. The last thing he needed was a bruise to explain, to make him look weak. There was no visible damage, but it still hurt badly. The Praetorian Guard's blade had sliced through more than skin that day he had killed Snoke—and the eight of them.

He stripped off his clothing, stepped into the shower, and stood there, thinking.

After the noodle soup day, he had thought that he and Hux were partners, business and sexual, Supreme Leader and Grand Marshal, equals. It had all been good for a day, possibly two. The first full day, they'd had sex four separate times. And then things had changed. But still he hadn't expected—could never have anticipated—what had just happened moments ago.

Hux was annoying at best, but today he had gone past annoying. He thought he could get away with anything—and Ren had let him. He deserved punishment, deserved pain, and Ren wanted to give him both.

Standing under the shower, he tried to keep his seething emotions under control. He knew that exploding would earn him respectful behavior through fear, but not true respect, and he was struggling to follow those guidelines. He succeeded maybe a quarter of the time, but that was progress.

He stepped out of the shower and pulled on his uniform. The jacket had been lying on the refresher floor, but it still looked freshly ironed. Ren wanted to crumple it into a ball to ensure it was wrinkled before he wore it again, but he decided not to antagonize Hux intentionally. He did enough of it unintentionally, it seemed.

It had been late afternoon when he'd gone to Hux's quarters. It would be time for dinner now. Ren sighed with relief, finished putting on his socks and boots, and went to the officers' lounge to eat.


	2. Two: Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't usually post two days in a row, but I'm eager to share, so...here you go! :)

Armitage Hux had spent the evening in his quarters with his dinner, a drink, and a collection of datapads. When he'd finished eating, he'd settled into his favorite chair and lounged there with a mug of hot tea and his datapads. He tried to focus, but thoughts of Ren kept interrupting his concentration.

Their discussion that afternoon had gone poorly and it had been partly his fault. It had taken less than two days before he'd realized that he'd made a mistake in their agreement. The disparate titles proved that the two roles—Supreme Leader and Grand Marshal—could never hold equal power. Before Ren could use his title to gain an advantage, Hux had written up the arrangements in his favor. Ren, with his lacking knowledge in that area, had agreed to them. But even knowing that his position granted him better responsibilities and more power didn't make him feel better.

His feelings for Ren were a source of confusion. Hux hated confusion; he hated uncertainty. He hated chaos and Ren was chaos. Hux wanted everything to be known and in order. For a short time he had thought that it all was, but with Ren that could never be. Hux wanted nothing to do with him, but he had tied himself into this agreement, this contract. And the sex had been good...at first, but even that had changed.

He glanced through his messages, scrolling absently, until he saw a heading that brought his focus back laser-sharp. He opened the message and read it swiftly, then read it again. So the rumor was true: on a planet in the Mid Rim, there was a nest of Force-sensitive youth.

He had been waiting on this news for several weeks, trying not to let on that he was waiting for something or keeping a secret from Ren. Any suspicious behavior could result in Ren's intrusion into his mind, and that was the last thing Hux wanted. He hated having his mind read. It hurt; it was embarrassing; and he always felt violated afterward. Even worse, though, was when Ren did it in secret.

He didn't know much about the nest of Force-sensitive youth, just their existence and their location. He would guess it was a small group, isolated from the rest of society. Otherwise he would have heard of them before now.

As soon as he and Ren and their entourage of stormtroopers—he _was_ going to bring stormtroopers, no matter what Ren said—killed Luke Skywalker, there would be no one to train these Force-sensitive youth into Jedi, but Hux knew that any collective of them—and there were almost none remaining—had the potential to become formidable enemies. This nest of youth would have to be destroyed immediately.

But Ren would have a different opinion. He would see Force-sensitive youth as potential assets instead of hazards. He would try to train them up as dark Force users, as allies instead of enemies. Hux knew that would never work. Idealistic youth would never turn to the darkness unless they were forced. Hux knew this because he possessed that force to turn children into perfect soldiers of the First Order. Ren had no concept of training. He would fail.

Hux would have to kill these youths before Ren learned of their existence—and that meant now. If he left immediately, he could get away before Ren learned of this information. It had been hard enough to keep the rumor secret when it had been a rumor; factual news like this would spread. He had to take care of this and he had to do it tonight.

Assembling a mental to-do list with practiced ease, Hux prepared himself for the mission. He anticipated that this would take less than a day—get in and get out—so there was no need to pack. He dressed in his standard uniform and his favorite greatcoat, and then he left his quarters.

By the time he reached the bridge, he had his lie concocted. He approached Lieutenant Salandar and told the lie for the first time. "I'm called to an emergency meeting. Someone has introduced a flaw into the training simulation program on another ship and I need to fix it immediately. Prepare a shuttle for me and ten stormtroopers in hangar C. I shall have them selected shortly. Don't share that with Supreme Leader Ren."

"Yes, sir!" said Salandar. He nodded and bustled off.

With his orders given and obeyed, Hux went off to find the next person he needed. He knew exactly where she'd be at this time of night, and while it would be a convenient place to talk to her, he was reluctant to visit her there. It had never gone smoothly before.

The _Supremacy_ 's gym closed for the night specifically to allow the high-ranking officers time to exercise without interruptions. The same had been true on the _Finalizer_ , and Hux assumed other ships had the same rules. He knew that Phasma worked out in the late evenings—this was her time to exercise alone, without the demands of command—and Ren was there early in the mornings before his duty shift began. Hux, however, hated the gym because it reminded him of his physical inadequacies. He could run, and he did sometimes, when he couldn't sleep in the early hours of the morning, but his was nothing like Ren's and Phasma's workouts.

He unlocked the door and quietly entered the gym. Phasma was working on a machine in one of the corners. During her private workouts was the only time he would see her without her armor. The gold hair and fair skin looked strange when he was accustomed to chrome. She was seated on a piece of equipment with her arms out and up; she brought them together in front of her, and then released.

He came into her view and asked, "What's that called?"

"Pec deck," she replied. Her voice sounded different here, not filtered through the armor. "Want to try? I can show you how it works."

Hux had known the offer was coming and he'd been dreading it. The offer had been extended several times in the years they'd known each other and Hux had taken her up on it once. He had regretted it ever since. Not only had he injured himself, but he'd also humiliated himself in front of her, and while she no longer harassed him openly, he knew she'd never forgotten. He knew that when he declined, she'd ask him why, and he'd need an answer. "Not tonight," he said.

"Why not?" she asked, right on cue.

"I'm wearing my uniform and my greatcoat. I'm not dressed for exercise."

"So take off the coat and the top. I've seen you shirtless before," she said. She was still using the pec deck. He could see the ripple of muscles in her chest and shoulders. He shouldn't be looking at her chest.

"Not tonight," he said again.

She released the equipment and gave him her full attention. "Then what are you doing here... _General_ Hux?"

Hux clenched his teeth and didn't reprimand her. He was about to ask a favor of her—and he understood. He could understand Phasma; she was like him. He could never understand Ren. But Phasma had been part of the unofficial triumvirate that led the First Order under Supreme Leader Snoke, and she had been left out of the deal he'd made with Ren. He'd been a fool there; Phasma would have made a much better partner. She had a right to be furious with him, but that didn't mean she could openly disrespect him. Except right now.

"I need a favor," he said. "I'm going on a mission tonight and I need ten of the best, most trustworthy stormtroopers to go with me."

"Tonight?" she asked. "What's the hurry?"

He decided to confide in her. "I found a nest of Force-sensitive youth on a Mid Rim planet and I need to kill them before Ren—Supreme Leader Ren finds out."

Phasma laughed, wiped a stray strand of hair off her sweaty face, and returned to the pec deck machine. "Your boyfriend isn't going to like you sneaking around."

Hux bristled at the word boyfriend, but he supposed it was better than several other terms she could have used. "No, he's not."

"You need to be in here, working out, so you can defend yourself when he—"

"Physical strength won't protect me from the Force," Hux said, but he was remembering hitting Ren and the exhilaration that single act had sent through him. Maybe he should try working out so the next blow left a bruise. "I'll let you tutor me. But not tonight. Tonight I need your ten best men and women. Choose some that aren't afraid of the Force and that...that aren't squeamish about killing children."

Hux had no qualms about killing children, if they were his enemies, or if they failed him and his training, but he knew some people were unable to think that way. Or they liked children. Hux had never liked children—with perhaps one exception—except for their ability to be trained into soldiers for the First Order.

"Phasma, personal trainer to the Grand Marshal," she said, preoccupied with that victory. He was pleased and relieved that she'd chosen to use his official title. Then she focused. "My ten best Force-comfortable child-killers. Hmm."

It sounded bad when she put it like that. He knew, however, that they were youths now, but they would grow up, and killing them now would save him—and the galaxy—a lot of trouble.

"I'll give you some from the FN Corps. They—most of them—have the potential to be the best the First Order has produced, thanks to me, and you." Phasma paused another moment to think, and then provided him with the designations of ten stormtroopers. Then she smiled again, a rare occurrence. "Are you sure you don't want to try the pec deck?"

"I have a mission to go on," he said. "Thank you, Captain Phasma." And with that, he turned and walked out of the gym. He heard the quiet clank of metal on metal behind him. When he had passed through the door, he locked it behind him and let out a deep breath.

The next task was gathering up all ten stormtroopers from several different barracks. Under normal circumstances, he would have ordered someone else to do this for him, but his nerves were getting to him. He could do it adequately himself, and the fewer people who knew about this mission, the better. He knew Phasma wouldn't tell anyone, particularly Ren, but he didn't trust anyone else.

Slowly, he acquired all ten stormtroopers. All of them were shocked to see Hux—Grand Marshal Hux—appear unexpectedly in their barracks. He listed the designations of the troopers he wanted and waited for them to change into their armor. He didn't tell any of them where they were going or why. He would brief them later. Then he sent each group to hangar C, where the shuttle would be waiting.

Not much more than an hour after he first saw the message, Hux found himself in the hangar, and before him a very nice shuttle and ten stormtroopers standing at attention. Hangar C was otherwise empty of people, which was why he had chosen it. The deserted hangar was an acceptable briefing room for these ten men and women, who—he was certain—all wondered why they were here.

He assembled the stormtroopers at the foot of the shuttle's loading ramp and addressed them there. "Tonight I am taking you to the Mid Rim. We have discovered there a nest of Force-sensitive youth. These youths will grow into our enemies if we allow them to mature. I am tasking you fine men and women with slaughtering these youth before they become a greater hazard to the First Order."

As the stormtroopers stood at attention, he said, "Board the shuttle. It's time to depart."

"Yes, sir!" came the chorus of voices. And they made their orderly way onto the shuttle. He was pleased. He hoped that Phasma had chosen them well.

Just as Hux was wishing that he'd brought a pilot so that the responsibility didn't fall solely upon him, he heard the hangar door open behind him. Horror and fear filled him instantaneously and he turned. As he'd wished, there was a pilot.

There was Kylo Ren.


	3. Three: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookies for anyone who guesses where I got the title. :D

After eating dinner, Kylo Ren hadn't known what to do with himself. He had wandered the _Supremacy_ and found himself in what had once been Snoke's throne room. He supposed it was his throne room now, but he had almost forgotten about it. This evening he'd spent almost an hour just sitting on the throne—his throne—and thinking. Most of his thoughts had been about Hux, but he had concluded that ruminating was a waste of his time and gone to find something else to do.

Late in the evening, Ren meandered onto the bridge. Upon his entrance, everyone looked up at him, and then immediately looked away. Ren scowled; he knew what that meant. They were keeping a secret from him—and he had a good idea whose secret it was.

"What's going on?" he asked almost pleasantly. He'd give them a chance to tell him before he had to extract it from their minds.

"N-nothing, Supreme Leader," one officer stammered. Ren, who recognized him as Lieutenant Salandar, decided he would be first. He would regret speaking up, but he would have regretted silence even more.

"You know I can find the truth in your mind," Ren warned.

"Yes, sir, but...nothing is going on," Salandar lied. Ren knew it was a lie just reading his body language and hearing the tone of his voice; he didn't need to read Salandar's mind for that bit of information.

Just then another officer—Ren didn't know this one's name—spoke up. "He's correct, Supreme Leader. There is nothing amiss."

"Where is Grand Marshal Hux?" Ren asked. He wanted to see them squirm before they suffered the pain of his invasion into their minds.

"He—he had an emergency meeting on a...on another ship," Salandar said. "He broke their—someone introduced an error into their simulations, and he had to repair it. He—he just left the bridge."

Something tipped inside Ren, some switch that controlled his anger, and he felt it bubbling up inside him, inexorably taking him over.

"Liar!" Ren shouted, and he Force-dragged Salandar to him. He held Salandar there, with pressure around his neck, but just enough leeway for him to breathe. He couldn't die—not yet, not until Ren got the information he needed. He dug into Salandar's mind and searched for the information. He knew it was in there, right on the surface.

He easily found the memory of his interaction with Hux, but it was composed of only the lie that Salandar had just told him. Hux was good—he had protected himself well—but there was more. Hux had said, " _Prepare a shuttle for me and ten stormtroopers in hangar C. I shall have them selected shortly. Don't share that with Supreme Leader Ren._ " Ah, Ren now knew his ultimate destination, and if he wanted more information, he knew exactly where to find it. There was only one person Hux would trust to select stormtroopers for him.

He strode rapidly toward the gym. He didn't have much time, but he needed to know Hux's reasons before he confronted him in the hangar. The door to the _Supremacy_ 's gym was locked, of course—it was closed for high-ranking officers overnight and he took advantage of that almost daily—but he unlocked the door and stepped in to find Phasma on a piece of equipment—the lat pull-down machine—in one corner. He thought maybe Hux would still be with her, but she was alone.

It was rare to see Phasma without her chrome armor. Gold-haired, light-skinned, and physically fit, she was dressed in a tank top and tracksuit pants, and her skin and hair were damp with sweat. Because of the orientation of the machine, she couldn't see him when he entered the gym.

"Back already? What do you need now?" she asked, loud enough for him to hear over the metallic clank of the lat pull-down machine.

"You're not supposed to let the weights hit each other like that," he said.

She released the bar carefully and silently and looked over her shoulder. "You," she said. Her blue eyes were piercing and cold, but he didn't care. He was stronger than she was; she was no threat to him.

Just weeks ago, she would have been his powerful ally, though she had never liked him personally. But ever since the triumvirate had been broken apart and she'd been left out of the new deal, she had been hostile to him. He would have liked to say that it made no difference to him, but her cooperation here would have been beneficial. For her. He was perfectly happy to extract the truth from her mind, with or without her permission.

"Hux came to you to ask you to select ten stormtroopers for him," Ren said. "Why?" He would start out civil, though the civility came out through clenched teeth.

She returned her attention to the machine—reached for the bar and pulled it back down until she was seated again. "I have no answers for you."

Ren had asked nicely and been rebuffed. Now he would get his answers. He used the Force to grab Phasma. The bar slipped from her weakened hands and the weights crashed together with a painfully loud noise. If she'd been able to speak, he knew she would have reprimanded him for his treatment of the machine, but he hadn't been the one to let go of the bar.

She faced him defiantly, eyes blazing, teeth bared. She would not give in to him without a fight, but that was okay; that was good. He liked a fight.

"Tell me...." He extended his hand toward her face, to reach into her mind. "Why did Hux need ten stormtroopers?"

She struggled and put up much more of a fight than the bridge officer had, and he enjoyed every moment of her pain and torment. It didn't take long to find her conversation with Hux, where he confided in her: " _I found a nest of Force-sensitive youth on a Mid Rim planet and I need to kill them before Ren finds out._ "

"A nest of Force-sensitive youth," he said and watched her grimace as she realized she had given him exactly the information he desired. It was a familiar expression; when he had to extract information from people, they hated it when they learned he had so easily stolen it. "And he needs to kill them before I learn enough to stop him."

He released Phasma and turned toward the door. "Enjoy your workout," he said breezily and walked out of the gym.

Not knowing how far behind Hux he was, he made his way swiftly to hangar C, where Hux and his ten stormtroopers would be boarding that shuttle on the way to some Mid Rim planet. He would have to stop them, and Hux would have to be punished—contract be damned.

At the moment he stepped into hangar C, Hux was supervising the loading of his ten stormtroopers onto the shuttle. The sound of the door caught Hux's attention and he turned, an expression of terror on his face even before he saw who it was. Ren would have been pleased by his terror if he hadn't been so angry.

He crossed to where Hux stood frozen. "Traitor!" he shouted. He grabbed Hux by the collar of his uniform and twisted hard.

Hux stared defiantly at him, not giving in despite struggling to breathe. Ren shook him by the neck, but Hux continued to stare. He didn't have enough breath to speak, but that seemed not to faze him.

"Explain yourself... _now_!" Ren demanded. He loosened his grip enough that Hux could speak. When Hux refused, Ren shook harder, then released and flung him backward onto the floor. Hux landed hard on his back, the impact knocking the breath out of him, and his head cracked against the floor. Before he could sit up, Ren planted his boot on Hux's breastbone and said again, "Explain yourself."

Hux raised his head, and then laid it back down. There was no blood; he'd be fine. Ren wondered briefly why he was concerned. "If you're here, you know already," Hux said resignedly. He turned his head in the direction of the shuttle, but there was no way he could see it from his current position. Ren knew what he was trying to see: he needed to know if his stormtroopers were watching. One was; the others weren't visible inside the shuttle, but Ren knew they were listening.

"Tell me," Ren said. He eased his boot forward, a little closer to Hux's throat.

Looking alarmed, Hux gave in. "I received confirmation of a rumor that there are Force-sensitive youth on a Mid Rim planet. I was taking those fine stormtroopers to kill them."

"That's funny. I don't recall your telling me that you were going somewhere," Ren said.

Hux glared, if possible, even harder. "I don't have to tell you my whereabouts at all times. The same is true of you."

"Phasma seemed to think you intended to kill them before I found out," Ren said. He watched Hux's reaction to the name and hoped that Hux felt betrayed. He needn't. Phasma had succumbed to a power she couldn't resist. "Yes, she told me all about it."

"Phasma would never betray me to you intentionally," Hux said. He was smarter than he looked. "But yes, I had to kill them before you found out because I knew that _you_ would stop me. You would want to keep them as pets, or raise them as your children, or—"

Ren moved his boot up until the toe was at the center of Hux's throat, just under his chin. He didn't speak. He didn't have to.

"You'd regret killing me," Hux whispered hoarsely.

Ren watched his face redden and released the pressure when the color began to darken too much. He returned his boot to the center of Hux's chest and tried again. "You betrayed me," he said. "How should I make you pay for that?"

"We are supposed to be _equals_!" Hux snapped.

"And we're supposed to work together," Ren said, " _not_ against each other. Going off to do something before I can stop you—that's not working with me."

"You would think nothing of doing the same to me," Hux said.

"But I haven't—"

"Yet," Hux interjected.

"If I wanted to work against you, I wouldn't sneak around and betray you," Ren said.

Hux considered this. Ren could see him thinking. "That's not true, but if it were, that doesn't make you better than I am. It makes you worse."

Ren wouldn't argue about that. He wouldn't argue about anything. Arguing was allowing the possibility that his power could be less, that he could lose. "We have more important tasks right now than worrying about these _children_. We've made the plans. Now we act them out. When we're freely ruling the galaxy, we'll worry about children." He moved his boot. "We leave tomorrow. Now, tell these stormtroopers to go back to their barracks. You're not going anywhere tonight."

Fury blazed inside Hux. Ren felt it without even trying to look into Hux's mind. He got up off the floor, rubbed the back of his head with his hand, and obediently called the stormtroopers out of the shuttle. Ren stood back and watched while Hux told them to return to their barracks and not say a word of this to their fellows. At this stage in their training, they might or might not obey and keep their mouths shut. When Hux had finished and the stormtroopers dispersed, he came up to Ren and asked, "Are you happy now?"

Ren wasn't. "I'll walk you to your quarters," he said. The words were light, capable of being interpreted as a man walking his date to her front door, but Hux had to know he was being escorted like a prisoner.

They did the walk in silence. Ren made sure Hux was in his quarters before he left. He trusted that Hux would stay there. To return to the stormtroopers and call them out again would be too humiliating, and there was no way that Hux would go alone. He would be ready in the morning to pursue Luke with Ren.

"I'll pick you up in the morning," he said.

Back in his own quarters, Ren contemplated the events of the night. He had trusted Hux, and his trust had been proven unwarranted. He had been a fool to think that they could coexist as equal in rank with no one forcing it on them. He should have known that Hux would betray him, and if he had betrayed him now, he would think nothing of doing it again...and again.

Ren would need Hux in his quest to kill Luke. And he would need Hux in order to bring down the dregs of the Resistance. And in these things, he could guard himself against further betrayal. But after that, he would have no need of a man who would betray him and blame him for it. After that, the Supreme Leader could stand on his own.

Armitage Hux must die.


	4. Four: Hux

It had been a long time since Armitage Hux had thrown things in anger. That was Ren's arena; that was something that Ren did. But comparing his current behavior to Ren's bad behavior just made him madder. Grand Marshal Hux did not throw tantrums, yet here he was.

He had in his hand a balled-up sock, the second of the two, while the other sock and both boots lay haphazardly on the floor, all three having struck the wall some minutes earlier. He clenched his fist around the sock, squeezed it as small as he could, and then dropped it onto the floor. He almost left them there on the floor in a show of defiance, but picked them up and returned them to their proper location. Because that was what he did; that was who he was.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He had to calm down, to stop the anger burning inside of him. But the anger itself wasn't so bad; it was the humiliation that was scorching his insides. Even in all his childhood traumas, he had never been humiliated as badly as he had in hangar C. He hadn't known his face could flush so hot it seemed to burn his skin.

Ren had done some terrible things to him before, but nothing as bad as this. He wished he were stronger so that he could retaliate in some meaningful way.

He jumped up again and checked the clock. It was two hours past midnight. He couldn't sit still. He'd been trying for hours, but he couldn't settle down, couldn't relax. And now he knew what he had to do: he would go to the gym and run until he was too tired to stay standing up, too tired to do anything but sleep.

When he peeked out the door to his quarters, he half-expected to see Ren waiting for him in the corridor, but it was empty. With his gym bag—always packed with fresh clothes, but rarely used—slung over his shoulder, he walked quietly to the gym. He didn't want Ren to catch him and think he was going somewhere he shouldn't.

He unlocked the gym door, locked it again behind him, and flipped on one of the overhead lights. The big room was dim with just one light on, but he wanted it that way. In the locker room, he changed from his uniform to his exercise clothes, laid his folded uniform on the bench, and headed straight for the treadmill.

He started the machine at a brisk walk and gradually turned up the speed setting; as he got comfortable with one, he ran faster. He kept increasing his pace until he was sprinting as fast as he ever had and he could barely breathe. He felt pain in his legs—his calves and his thighs—but the pain focused him, and he pushed himself harder. Just when he thought he couldn't run any faster, he bumped the speed setting up a little higher. Oh, it was agony. He had never felt more alive.

When he knew he was going to collapse if he kept pushing, he started dialing the speed setting back down. At last he returned to the brisk walk. His heart continued thumping wildly, slower than the rest of his body to realize that he was no longer exerting himself.

He stepped shakily off the treadmill and wobbled toward the locker room. His legs could have been made of rubber; they didn't precisely obey his brain's commands. His chest and throat hurt from panting, but he felt good. He couldn't have bad thoughts when he was running that hard.

His intention was to return to his quarters immediately, but as he stepped into the locker room, he recalled that the showers here were water showers. Everywhere else on the ship—including his own refresher—had sonic showers. A water shower would be a delectable treat, and he deserved a treat.

In the shower room, he undressed and left his exercise clothes neatly folded on the ledge outside a shower stall. There were several stalls along one wall in addition to the communal shower area. He pulled the curtain across the opening and turned on the water. The temperature was perfectly cool—not icy, not warm, but a coolness that felt glorious on his sweaty skin and the heat of his core. Too exhausted to think or move, he stood silent and still under the spray.

A memory came unbidden to his mind and he hazily relived the last time he'd taken a water shower. The spray had felt good then, too, but even better had been the mouth around his cock. He had been restrained, unable to escape the hot eagerness of Ren's mouth.

He moaned from the memory, roused himself from the haze, and looked down to find that his cock was hard. Why _now_? But he was alone; he was hidden in his little cubicle. There was no reason he shouldn't indulge his body. He could even work in a fantasy that would make him feel better.

Feeling awkward, he tugged the curtain closer to both sides of the stall, and then reached for his cock. He wrapped his hand around it and felt the pleasant warmth, but it was inadequate. He couldn't just touch; he had to imagine....

_Ren, humiliated, naked and tied up in the shower stall. His hair was a mess, his skin pale, his dick shriveled. He'd pissed all over himself, in fear, yes; he'd been so afraid of what Hux would do to him. He was weak. When Hux entered the stall, Ren cowered; his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and his brown eyes focused desperately on Hux._

_Hux dragged Ren up onto his knees and pinned his back against the cold wall so that he was sitting on his heels. His wrists were bound in front of him and they were reddened from the coarse rope. His body was wobbly, but he remained upright out of fear of Hux's punishment. When Hux took out his hard cock, Ren opened his mouth obediently and shut his eyes._

Hux groaned, teasing his cock with short strokes. It fit perfectly in his hand and he knew exactly how to touch himself, where his palm felt good and how to trace his fingers around the crown. His easy tugs allowed him to sink further into the fantasy. Then he altered it.

_Hux took his cock out of his pants and Ren turned his face away. Hux slapped that face, watched a red hand print form on the pale cheek, and grabbed Ren's chin. He turned Ren's chin and lifted it and pinched his cheeks to force his mouth open. When Hux's cock came near, Ren shut his eyes._

_But there was something in Ren, some slutty nature, that arose when he had Hux's cock in his mouth. He sucked expertly, enthusiastically, but Hux wouldn't allow him to bob his head. He kept Ren's head back against the wall of the shower stall and fucked his mouth, hard and fast._

Hux was rubbing his cock, almost yanking, and breathing hard again. He could feel his heart banging against his ribs and his cock throbbing in time with it. A vein pulsed under his fingers. He was exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. His forehead and his other hand were braced against the wall, but he brought that hand down to create a tunnel into which to thrust, as if he really were fucking Ren's mouth. The fantasy continued playing out in his head.

_Ren moaned around his cock and Hux looked down to see Ren's cock was hard now, too, but Ren would get no relief; Hux would make sure of that. Hux kept fucking Ren's mouth with his cock and delighted in Ren's little whimpers—pain and desire both. Hux was close, so close, and he pounded relentlessly, almost choking Ren, until he couldn't hold back any more. He pulled out and came all over Ren's face. White come dripped down his face, off his chin, and onto his bare chest._

With a muffled groan, Hux finished and come oozed from his cock and onto the floor and his hands with less force than usual. Panting again, he released his softening cock and slumped against the wall. He let the water wash him clean of sweat and semen, and he splashed some extra water on that area of the floor to clean it as well. No evidence could remain.

But the water couldn't wash away the memory of what had just happened. He looked around self-consciously, shook his head, and turned off the shower. He couldn't believe he had done that here. He couldn't believe he had done that at all.

He found his uniform in the locker room and dressed hastily. He wanted to get out of the gym and away from the uneasy feeling that was growing inside of him. After drying with a rough towel from a stack and putting away the towel, he put his exercise clothes back into the gym bag and headed for the door.

He felt it in his stomach—not nausea or pain, but a knot that tightened around itself the more he thought about what he had just done. He felt it on his skin—a crawling sensation, like a creeping insect that he couldn't swat away. It was like a needle pricking him; every time he imagined that the sting might be gone, the needle would prick him again and bring back the feeling. Once he left the gym and got away from the scene of the...it wasn't really a crime, was it? Once he'd left the gym, the uneasiness would fade because the reminder would be gone.

Ten minutes later, Hux shut the door to his quarters behind him. He took care of his exercise clothes and sat down on the bed. The uneasy feeling had followed him from the gym and he knew he had to address it. He had escaped his thoughts for an hour, but it was time to face them again.

He had a poor relationship with his emotions. He hated having them and wished that he could always be cool, calm, collected, confident. He did his best to avoid having feelings and when he did, he could often analyze them away. It usually worked, but not tonight. He would have to face them tonight.

Guilt. The uneasy feeling, that knot in his stomach, it was guilt. He assured himself that he had no reason to feel guilty; he had harmed no one. And even if he had acted it out in reality, Ren deserved it. He deserved every bit of it. The knot didn't go away, but it did loosen. Now he could just forget about it. If he ignored it long enough, it would go away. He was sure of that.

As he allowed the memories and thoughts to return, he started packing for the morning's departure. He didn't know how long they would be gone on the search for the last Jedi, but he didn't want a replay of his last adventure—misadventure—on which he'd brought no change of clothing. He put together a small suitcase of clothing and personal items he might need for a short trip.

He couldn't believe he was going on this errand with Ren when he should be putting his effort into killing those Force-sensitive youth. But Ren had been right—he hated it when Ren was right—that they had made plans for dominating the galaxy, and those plans were somewhat time-sensitive. They would kill the youth, but not tomorrow.

There weren't many Force users left in the galaxy. There was Luke Skywalker, the last Jedi, but not for long. There was this nest of youth. Beyond that, there were a few scattered Force-sensitive individuals. All of them could potentially become formidable opponents. In time, Hux would destroy them all. Then the First Order would be safe.

But a niggling thought came to him. To make the First Order truly safe from Force users, one would have to destroy all of them—the Light...and the Dark. He contemplated that idea and all it entailed. All the Jedi, all the light Force users, the Knights of Ren, and the most powerful dark Force user: Kylo Ren.

Hux felt himself perspiring. Was he really thinking these things?

And then he remembered, memories flooding in, all the ways Kylo Ren had hurt him with the Force. He had been abused and betrayed multiple times by this one Force warrior. And Snoke, Snoke had been the most dangerous Force user, and Hux had been freed by his death.

No, in order for the First Order to be safe, all Force users must be eliminated. All of them, with no exceptions.

Kylo Ren must die.


	5. Five: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be busy this week (I run two evening trainings, and I'm giving a webinar for teachers in Russia) so my every-other-day schedule might get a bit messed up. We'll see! Would an every-third-day schedule work better for you, my readers?
> 
> The offer of cookies still stands, by the way! :D

The map had been in Kylo Ren's memory since that day at the Resistance headquarters on D'Qar, but it had taken him this long to use it. When he had seen the holographic projection of the map that would take him to find—and kill—Luke Skywalker, he had known that this would be his greatest accomplishment. He was already known as Jedi Killer; this deed would cinch the deal.

But as he packed his belongings on the morning of the mission, he wondered if this would be his greatest feat. Already he had become Supreme Leader, which was something no one—not even he—had predicted. After he killed the last Jedi, his next task would be to annihilate the remains of the Resistance. He could be known for that, as the man who brought down the Resistance. And after that? Who knew what he could accomplish with the rest of his life.

Ren would be Jedi Killer, but he would be so much more.

He finished packing the small bag of clothes and personal items that he would take with him. This morning he had already visited the gym—as he usually did in the early morning before the gym opened for general use—and showered and taken care of his standard work duties. He checked his messages and saw nothing important enough to address before he left.

He was reluctant to leave because he didn't want to face Hux again already. He had made up his mind that Hux had to die, but he couldn't kill him yet. With this in mind, he knew he would struggle at first to face Hux and keep this secret. And of course he would have to watch himself, guard himself against betrayal at every moment until Hux was dead. Here in his quarters, life was safe and easy, but it all would change the moment he left.

Everything was changing. He'd already killed his parents and taken over the role of Supreme Leader. Now he would finish the task he'd been trying to achieve for so many months—and he'd kill his last blood relative at the same time. After he eliminated the Resistance—and Hux—the First Order would be safe, and he would be the master of the galaxy. In such a short time, everything would be different.

He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder and left his quarters.

Hux was waiting impatiently when Ren pressed the buzzer on the door of his quarters. He immediately stepped out, carrying his own bag, and locked the door behind him. He looked exhausted; his face was paler than usual with dark smudges under his eyes. And he wouldn't look at Ren; he carefully avoided his gaze. Something was wrong. Ren would have to watch him even more carefully than he'd planned.

They walked in silence to the hangar where Ren had left his command shuttle. This time they were taking it on an official mission, not a desperate and secret escape. He almost wished he could go back in time to when Hux was his ally. They hadn't liked each other back then, but they had been working together toward a shared goal.

When they reached the hangar, Ren boarded the command shuttle first, with Hux a few steps behind him. He climbed into the cockpit, Hux following, and sat in the pilot's seat with Hux as the copilot. While a copilot did sometimes make flying easier, Ren did not want Hux as his copilot. He'd rather go without than have Hux sitting here next to him the whole journey. And who knew, maybe Hux would choose to sabotage him right here.

Feeling on edge, Ren raised the loading ramp, and then proceeded through systems checks and pre-flight procedures. With his hands on the controls once more, he found he couldn't wait to fly the shuttle again. It was a family thing; his grandfather, Lord Vader, had been a pilot, and Ren took after him. The TIE silencer was a more exhilarating experience, but the Upsilon-class command shuttle made a grander entrance and allowed for copilot and passengers.

At this moment, he would rather have the TIE silencer and forsake his copilot. He would have to face Luke alone. He could probably do this whole mission alone, but it was too late to change his mind now.

He laid his hands on the controls and felt the shuttle beneath him. Sometimes there seemed to be an almost telepathic connection between himself and his ship. He shut his eyes, opened them, and piloted the command shuttle out of the hangar.

When he had plotted the hyperspace course to the planet of Ahch-To, where Luke Skywalker was hiding, and engaged the hyperdrive, he sat back. There was little to do now but wait, and he would prefer to wait without Hux lurking silently in the copilot's seat. But Hux was doing silence, so Ren could do silence as well.

In the silence, Ren's curiosity and apprehension combined, and he decided to take a secret peek into Hux's mind. Something was bothering him and Ren wanted to know what it was. Without that knowledge, he could be walking into danger. He wouldn't delve deeply unless he had reason to look closer.

Sitting still, he inclined his face so that he could see Hux without being caught staring, and reached out with the Force. He needed to be careful, to be gentle so that Hux wouldn't catch him inside his mind. That would make the situation worse and it was already bad. He tiptoed in and looked at the surface.

He was assaulted instantly by an image of himself, naked, bound by a rope, and covered in...urine. He looked terrified; he was cowering, and above him, Hux was releasing his erection from his pants. Ren watched in horror as Hux jammed his cock into his fantasy-self's mouth and pounded him, the back of his head banging against the wall with each violent thrust.

He staggered back out of Hux's mind and almost toppled out of his chair in his desperation to escape. He wouldn't have believed that Hux could think those things about him, and especially not here, now. If Hux pulled his blaster now, would he be able to act out his fantasy on Ren? Not now, no, but Ren doubted he'd be able to sleep without protecting himself somehow.

Hux glanced sharply at him, which was a perfectly reasonable reaction to Ren's sudden jerk, and Ren explained before Hux could ask: "Cramp."

Hux rolled his eyes and stood up. "I'm going to get some work done. Let me know if anything important happens." He left the cockpit and descended into the passenger compartment.

Stunned, Ren sat in the pilot's seat and gazed dully at his hands. He couldn't get that image of himself out of his mind. Never before had Hux made him feel so vulnerable, and he hadn't even done anything. Ren shut his eyes and shook his head, but the image remained.

The worst part was the fear he'd seen in his own eyes. In his own real experience, he'd been naked and on his knees in front of Hux. He'd taken Hux's cock into his mouth, though Hux had never fucked his mouth like that. He'd never been tied up, but he would have been willing if Hux had asked. The urine...he didn't know whose it was, but he supposed it could have been a byproduct of the fear.

Pain was fine. Pain was good. But Ren didn't get off on fear. And he hadn't thought that Hux got off on inflicting it either. Hux was more sadistic than he'd known.

Ren shook his head again, trying to dislodge the thoughts, and it still didn't work. Finally he opened his eyes and looked at the stars. They were a pulsing glow now as the command shuttle passed through hyperspace. Here he was, confined in a shuttle with a person he thought he'd known...but he hadn't. This reinforced his decision that Hux must die. It was the only way.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring at the glowing streaks with his eyes and his mind unfocused, before Hux returned to the cockpit. Immediately Ren reprimanded himself for letting down his guard. If Ren had had trouble facing him earlier, he struggled even more now. He could barely look at Hux's face; there was no way he could meet his eyes.

Hux, of course, was observant. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.

Ren had no excuse. "Stomachache," he said. It was a feeble attempt at deception, but he didn't know what else to say. There was no way he could confess the truth.

"That's a lie and we both know it," Hux snapped.

"You have no right to talk to me like that!" Ren returned. He felt the anger coming to a simmer and he embraced it.

"I have every right! I can talk to you however I want. Especially when you're acting—acting—" Hux stopped, apparently searching for the right word for Ren's behavior. "Untrustworthy!"

"You think you can't trust _me_?" Ren asked. He had no idea how Hux could come to that conclusion. Hux was the traitor. He was the untrustworthy one, particularly since Ren had seen into his mind. But Hux couldn't know that Ren had been looking. He hated having his mind read and admitting to it would only make things worse. It was hard to get worse than where they were already.

"I've never been able to trust you. You're too unpredictable. And now you can barely _look_ at me. What have you _done_?" Hux demanded.

"I haven't done anything," Ren said. He shouldn't argue, but he wanted a fight. A physical fight. He was better at that. He had the strength to break Hux in half if he wanted to, whereas Hux was better at the verbal fighting. If he let himself get out of control now, he might reveal what he'd seen. He hadn't done anything, but he felt betrayed because of what Hux had done the night before; there was nothing more to it than that. "You're trying to accuse me of something because you feel guilty," he said, trying to make it a statement, not another point to argue.

Hux folded his arms across his chest and walked away.

Ren leaned forward to peer after him as he disappeared into the passenger compartment. Either he had won the argument or Hux had decided he didn't want to argue either. The latter wasn't like him at all, which meant that for once Ren had won an argument. He relaxed into the pilot's seat and returned his gaze to the stars.

This was to be a momentous day—not his greatest, but momentous nonetheless. At the end of the day, his uncle—his last blood relative—would be dead, and Ren would benefit from that death. Ren did not kill for fun—though he had seen Hux do so. This death was necessary for the galaxy, and Ren would be the one to carry it out—regardless of any person feelings he might harbor. By this point, there were no more personal feelings.

He sat in silence as the shuttle traversed space toward their ultimate destination: Ahch-To.

Hours later, the command shuttle dropped out of hyperspace and Ren got his first look at Ahch-To. The planet was mostly covered in water with scattered islands, some rocky and some green. Ren had seen oceans, had seen broad oceans on many different planets, but had never seen anything like this.

Hux came to the cockpit as the shuttle descended through the atmosphere. Ren knew which island it was and he brought the shuttle down at the bottom, where ocean met rock.

Beyond having more water than he'd ever seen, this planet was supposed to be the birthplace of the Jedi Order. Rumor had it that Luke had come here looking for the first Jedi temple. Had he found it? Ren didn't care. It made no difference to him.

His task from here was simple: find Luke and kill him.


	6. Six: Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter has been updated to fill in some holes in the readers' knowledge if they didn't read Close Proximity beforehand. This means it also spoils the ending to Close Proximity, but I think not losing readers to confusion makes it worthwhile. Right?
> 
> Speaking of holes...it's bad joke time!  
> Question: Did you hear the one about the three holes in the ground filled with water?

Armitage Hux had spent a good portion of the morning feeling faintly nauseated as memories from the night before ate at him. After several hours, however, the nausea faded into a vague sense of unease. He occupied most of his time on the command shuttle reading reports and messages and writing some of his own, but he stopped once to check on Ren.

Something was wrong, though Ren was loath to admit it. He had been awkward from the moment they'd met that morning, when Ren had picked him up at his quarters on the way to the hangar. But sometime during their flight, whatever was bothering him had gotten worse.

Hux didn't know what it was, but he was certain that Ren was plotting against him. If he hadn't already decided that Ren must die for being a Force user, he might have decided that he should die simply for being untrustworthy and for getting in the way. Hux took a moment to contemplate his ethics and whether they would have allowed him to kill for those reasons. Maybe. But he didn't have to worry about that; Ren's Force-sensitivity was all the justification he needed.

The sooner he could kill Ren, the better. But he needed Ren to take down Skywalker—if they were to do it alone; had he brought the stormtroopers he desired and intended, Ren might not have been needed. In order to demolish the Resistance—what remained of it—Ren would be a convenient ally, but not required. Hux would make his plans for Ren's murder and carry them out when the time was right.

Now, as the command shuttle landed at the foot of a rocky island in the middle of a vast ocean, Hux stood in the cockpit and surveyed the area. The island was like a small mountain. Hux's legs hurt just looking up the steep inclines. He hoped that Ren was right and this was the island where Skywalker was living. He would hate to scale these hills and search the crevices and determine that Skywalker wasn't here.

"I'll be back when I've killed Luke," Ren said.

"No," Hux said. "I'm coming with you."

"Your legs will get tired and I'll have to leave you behind as I investigate," Ren said.

"My legs may get tired, but you will not have to leave me behind," Hux said. He had run last night, though he wouldn't tell Ren so, but while that proved that his legs were capable of the exercise, they were stiff and sore this morning. He was putting more confidence in them than he felt, but he refused to give Ren any excuse to leave him in the command shuttle for the good part.

Ren frowned at Hux's legs. "I _will_ leave you behind if you can't walk any farther—and I'm _not_ coming back for you."

"I accept your terms," Hux said. As he spoke, Ren's gaze rose from his legs to his face, and this time he didn't flinch or look away. Hux took some comfort from that.

Ren checked his lightsaber on its clip, which prompted Hux to check for his blaster; it was there. Ren drew in and blew out a deep breath. Then he lowered the loading ramp and climbed down from the cockpit. In moments, they were on the rocky surface of the island, and Ren was retracting the loading ramp.

The first thing Hux noticed was the smell. How long had it been since he'd smelled an ocean? The salt water left a sharp tang in the cool air and the scent was carried on the wind. He had been outdoors at Takodana and D'Qar, but neither environment had been as invigorating as this.

Ren either didn't notice or didn't care. "I feel him," he said. "I feel Luke. He's here."

"We had a map. Of course he's here," Hux said derisively.

Ignoring him, Ren turned his head, sweeping the island from one end to the other with his eyes. Hux didn't see anything, and apparently Ren didn't either. "I can't pin down where," he said, more softly this time. Then he started up the hill, his long strides making it hard for Hux to keep up already.

Several steps behind, Hux pushed hard to keep up with Ren's steady ascent. The sun—one of them, at least—was in his eyes, and made it difficult to see more of Ren than his bold silhouette, dark against the bright sky. In his black uniform, he was a slimmer, less intimidating figure than he'd been in robes, but the black cloak he wore billowed around him. The wind tugged at his long hair, wild and black in the bright sunlight.

Hux remembered, suddenly, how he'd found Ren attractive. Here, climbing a mountain, he was a dark and mysterious figure, the opposite of the fantasy-Ren cowering in the shower stall. Guilt was heavy in his chest; it sapped his energy and made the climb even harder.

At the first crest, a dirt path twined around the island mountain, while a dilapidated stairway continued the ascent. Ren paused here, much to Hux's relief. He was panting, and trying to hide it, and the muscles in his legs burned already. He wished he'd gone easier on himself on the treadmill. Ren, on the other hand, seemed to be expending no effort making the climb. Fortunately, he neither looked at Hux nor made any comment about his physical condition.

As Hux was hoping for the twining path, Ren chose the stairway. Without looking back at Hux, he started up the stairs. Hux bit back a groan and followed.

As they climbed, Hux could see more of the island and the ocean that surrounded it. The island was gray rock with scrubby green vegetation growing over it. Everything was an incline or a hill or a ridge; there was very little flat surface anywhere, except for some natural cups of land or what appeared to be artificial, crudely constructed dwellings. Perhaps one of them was Skywalker's. If he looked out and out, or down and down, he could see dark blue ocean stretching on what seemed like forever. Beyond the island, the water was calm, with occasional waves and whitecaps.

Hux did not usually appreciate nature—he was happiest on a starship or inside a large, man-made structure like Starkiller Base—but this view had him impressed.

He turned back from the view and found Ren even farther ahead of him. The stairs continued interminably up the side of the island. Hux couldn't figure out why they were heading toward the top instead of looking into some of the dwellings he'd seen.

"Ren!" he shouted. His voice sounded breathless and he hoped Ren wouldn't notice.

Ren stopped and turned around. If Hux had been able to see his expression, he knew it would be one of disapproval, but not surprise. Ren didn't think he could make it to the top, if that was where they were going, and that made Hux all the more determined to do it. "What?" Ren asked.

"There are houses over there." Hux gestured at the cluster of dwellings a little ways down the hill. "We should look into them. One might be Skywalker's."

Ren looked down at the dwellings. "They're too small for a human. I feel like there's something at the top. I have to keep climbing." He paused. "If you're too weak to come along, you can go back to the command shuttle and wait for me there."

"Not a chance," Hux said. His legs were killing him and his chest burned, and they were only halfway to the peak, but he was not going to give in. He would not give Ren the satisfaction.

"Onward," Ren said, and he continued upward.

Hux tried to distract himself from his physical condition by thinking about something else—anything but the pain his body was feeling.

He wondered why he had decided to come on this mission at all. He was just following Ren around while Ren did the good part. Ren got to kill Luke Skywalker. Finding Skywalker had been their goal—their shared goal—for so long, but it was Ren who had the privilege of murdering him. Ren was already Jedi Killer. It should be Hux's turn for the glory.

Knowing Ren's weakness when it came to killing family members, Hux wondered if he might be the one to kill Skywalker regardless. Hux was merciless. He didn't let attachments get in the way of his goals. If someone needed to be killed, it could be his own father—he had ordered the death of his own father—or a sibling or a childhood best friend, and Hux would follow through without hesitation and without regret. But Ren was soft, dealing with his inner conflict and his _feelings_. Ren might well hesitate when the moment came, and then Hux could step in.

They were three quarters of the way to the summit when Hux's body gave out. His legs collapsed under him and he slumped, gasping, on the rocky ground. He could barely breathe; he certainly had no breath to call to Ren. He willed Ren not to look back and see his failure. He had sworn he could do it and he had failed.

"We rest here," Ren said. He put his hands on his hips and gazed up at the summit for a long moment before he turned around. When he did turn, he lowered himself gracefully to the ground and sat there with his knees bent and his elbows on his knees.

Hux felt a nauseating combination of shame and gratitude. Or perhaps the one didn't depend on the other two and he felt the nausea as a result of the exertion and its sudden cease. He lay back on the ground and breathed and stared at the sky.

Ren was being nice. Why was he being nice? In the reverse situation, Hux would be criticizing Ren, or mocking him, for his failure to live up to his word. He wouldn't have stopped and acted like it was nothing. Hux didn't understand.

"I think you're right and Luke is down in one of those huts," Ren said.

Hux sat up abruptly, felt lightheaded, and lay back down. "What! You said they were too small for a—" he started angrily, only to interrupt himself when he heard Ren laughing. "You're kidding," he muttered.

Ren continued laughing while Hux seethed. Finally, Ren collected himself enough to say, "He's up there at the top. He's waiting for us. And laughing at you, a man half his age who can't even climb to the peak without collapsing. Not that I noticed anything like that." He looked toward the summit.

Hux picked up a rock the size of his palm and threw it at Ren, who caught it without looking. He wasn't sure if he should feel thankful or needled. Best not to feel anything at all.

Ren allowed them a rest of perhaps fifteen minutes—Hux, lacking a watch, could only guess at the time—before he got to his feet again. He waited politely for Hux to stand, and then started once more up the hill. Hux, who hadn't fully recovered, pushed onward anyway. His legs and chest both hurt, but the pain was more tolerable.

As they climbed, he counted steps. He counted ahead. A hundred more ahead of him. Ninety more ahead of him. Seventy more ahead of him. And he counted the steps he climbed. Ten steps. Ten more. He was getting closer. He could do it; he had to do it. He hoped that Ren was wrong about Skywalker waiting at the top and laughing at him. Hux hated being laughed at, hated being humiliated. Finally, he counted the last ten steps.

They came to the final crest and found a flattened area, and at the far side of that area, they found Luke Skywalker. He stood still: waiting for them, waiting for Ren, waiting for the bearer of his own death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answer: No? Well, well, well... :D


	7. Seven: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are lovely! :)
> 
> Another bad joke...
> 
> What's large, gray, and doesn't matter?

At the peak of Jedi Temple Island on Ahch-To, with the endless blue of the ocean surrounding him on all sides, Kylo Ren met with his destiny. Well, with his uncle. It had been years since he'd seen Luke Skywalker, and those years had not been kind to the man. His hair was gray and unkempt and he looked tired. He looked like he could be defeated with a single stroke of a lightsaber, but Ren knew that would not be the case.

But something was different; something was wrong. Ren knew it from the moment he first saw Luke, but he couldn't immediately determine what it was. Regardless, this Luke was not the same man Ren had left in the rubble all those years ago. He had changed—physically, yes, but the other changes that he could not see were more important, more essential to his being.

Ren didn't know where to begin. He'd had the whole climb to figure out what he was going to say, but he'd been so sure that he wouldn't have to say anything. He thought he'd reach the apex, find Luke, and slay him without a word. Yet here he was, with Luke unarmed, and Ren hadn't even drawn his lightsaber.

Instinctively, Ren looked to Hux—for what? Support? He would get no support from Hux now, and he shouldn't be looking for it there anyway. He would look weak if he turned to Hux. Luke was his responsibility, his to kill, no matter what feelings and memories Luke stirred up inside him.

This was the first time he'd seen Luke since that night in the Jedi temple.

Ben had been sleeping peacefully—a rarity back then, when fear and turmoil whirled within him whenever his mind was not occupied with a specific task—in his bedroom in the Jedi temple, when something had startled him awake. It wasn't a noise, though there had been noise, but a feeling—an all-consuming feeling—of danger. He opened his eyes to a green glow, rolled over, and saw his Jedi Master Luke standing over him with lightsaber ignited.

Luke looked different then, in the green glow, than Ben had ever seen him. There was a manic look in his eyes, an ugly twist to his face. That crazed, out-of-control expression scared Ben as much as the lightsaber ready to execute him did.

What happened then was pure instinct. His master thought he could murder his student in his sleep? He was not good enough—not _good_ enough to live? He snatched up his own lightsaber and met Luke's blade with his own. But he knew that he was not yet skilled enough with a lightsaber to defeat his master. Panicking, he did the first thing that came to his mind: he called upon the Force—upon the years of abandonment by his family, the lies his parents told him about his grandfather, the mistreatment by his Jedi student peers, the hypocrisy and weakness of his uncle, all the unfairness life had ever dealt him, and the anger and fear that had been building inside him for years upon years—and brought the structure of his bedroom down.

Minutes later, Ben clawed his way up through the rubble and emerged into a night that was darker than any he'd seen before. Master Luke Skywalker was dead, buried in the wreckage of his bedroom, and Ben had killed him. He thought he would feel different, now that he was a murderer, but he didn't. He felt the same fear and fury and jealousy that he had tried to suppress, but he didn't have to suppress them now. He screamed, as loud as he could, a primal roar, and felt the emotions course through him.

Luke was gone. It was time to take his revenge.

Ben found the matches for the candles and the extra oil for the lanterns, and he walked through the halls of the bedroom wing sloshing oil over anything that looked inflammable and lighting it behind him. He struck the head of each match against the side of the box and tossed the wooden stick of sputtering flame into the oil, which it ignited. The flames arose, small at first, but growing. Starting at the end of the hallway, where his bedroom had been, he strode slowly, waiting for the flames to rise high before he continued to his next target.

This was sleeping time, the middle of the night, so all of the other students were secure in their bedrooms—secure from intrusion, secure from the outdoors, but against smoke and flame? They were helpless. As Ben walked, he listened. The smoke billowed and the fire roared, but he heard from within the bedrooms coughing, scrabbling for the doors, and screams—the sound of the screams thrilled him, filled him with power. He reached out with the Force and locked the doors. Master Luke would not be the only one to die tonight.

Ben stood at the far end of the hallway and stared at the flames. Red and orange and white, they flickered and flared, flames consuming and destroying, and growing, always growing. Smoke billowed and ashes scattered on the breeze. He hoped they would ignite the trees and brush of the surrounding area, destroy everything in the vicinity of the temple. Still, within him, rage throbbed, pushing him, and any fear he'd felt earlier faded. He did not fear the punishment he would suffer, or the revelation of the darkness inside of him, or the weakness and vulnerability that had once held him back. He had power and he would wield it.

With the bedroom wing collapsing as the fire devoured it, Ben made his way to the temple itself. He left a burning trail of oil behind him as he walked. Each time he got too far ahead of the flames that followed him, he struck another match and tossed it onto the trail of oil. He was on the second bottle now.

At the temple, he shattered windows with his fists, cutting his hands until blood dripped down his wrists, though he barely noticed, and kicked down doors that should have been too solid for him to break through. The darkness inside him made him strong. He broke furniture into fragments of wood, swept glasses from full cupboards onto the floor, where they broke into thousands of shards. And always, dashing oil on anything that would burn and lighting it. Paper curled with the flames; cloth singed, and then burst aflame. The heat of the conflagration seared his skin, but he smiled with the pain. Pain gave him power.

Ben left the temple, stepped back, and watched it burn. Snoke would approve, he realized, though Snoke was not why he had done this. He couldn't blame his parents, though he was angry with them for their neglect, nor could he blame his peers for their mistreatment. No, it was something within him, a darkness that told him: more, more! This massacre was not enough. He would burn down the surrounding forest and the village and slaughter all the people who lived in it, and—

A sound that was not fire or the pounding of his heart drew his attention and he saw a lightsaber cutting through the one remaining wall of the bedroom wing. Out through the hole stepped three of his peers, all of them blackened with smoke and bloody from burns. Their survival came with the sacrifice of scars when they healed, and someday they would cover those scars with long sleeves and masks. Suddenly he felt something else, a sense of approval; these other disciples had proven themselves worthy. When he left, they would accompany him. They would leave together, find Snoke, and become what they were meant to be—become something greater than Master Luke could ever have made them.

Ben had led them off and left behind him only death and destruction.

And this was what Ren brought to the final confrontation between himself and his uncle, his former Jedi Master. Ren had killed him once; he oughtn't to hesitate to do it again.

"Do you fear me, old man?" Ren asked, breaking the silence.

Luke regarded him and spoke for the first time. "No." His voice had changed, too; he sounded old, old and cynical.

Ren didn't believe it. There had to be fear in there. He needed to instill fear in his former master's heart. Ren easily terrified people and he needed to know that he terrified his uncle. He had been afraid of Luke; today it would be the other way around. He extended his right arm and reached for Luke, broke down his barriers and.... He hesitated. There were no barriers. He touched Luke's mind and realized the difference he had detected earlier: Luke had cut himself off from the Force. Ren dropped his arm. "Have you given up?"

"I thought I'd come here to die," Luke said. He paused. "And I have, but I see it's necessary to kill you first."

"How do you expect to kill me? You've cut yourself off from the Force," Ren said. Luke might want him dead, but he would be incapable of killing him without the Force. Ren knew he should be pleased that this murder would be an easy task, but he was slightly disappointed. He had wanted a good fight; this would be a rout.

Luke's face hardened. "I will do whatever it takes to defeat you."

Ren laid his hand on the hilt of his lightsaber and braced himself. He was ready for a fight. Whatever Luke might do, it would not defeat him. Luke had lost the night he had tried to kill Ben Solo. He must have known, when he awakened in the smoke and ash and rubble, that Ben would learn that he had survived and come back and kill him someday. He should have given up then.

The fire was burning again in the back of Ren's mind. "You'll never beat me," he said. "You'll never—"

Smoke. The smell of smoke. It had leapt from his memory into his reality. He looked around, questioning his senses and his sanity.

Luke laughed. Lower down on the island, where they had seen the huts, smoke was rising from the chimney of one hut. "The Lanais are Caretakers of the island," he explained.

Ren took a breath and collected himself. He needed to do it, just do it. The longer he waited to kill his uncle, the harder it would be. If he let himself think about what he was doing, whom he was killing, and what he intended to accomplish with this devastating act, he might hesitate.

He hesitated. Here he would kill his last blood relative. He had killed his mother—near enough. She had led the Resistance; she had needed to die. He had killed his father. Han had possessed the bad luck of being his father. And now he would kill his uncle. Luke was the last Jedi; he needed to die. It was not just Ren's opinion; it was the opinion of the entirety of the First Order. Ren was the one to carry it out.

There was no reason to hesitate this time. He would cut down Luke Skywalker now—no more conversation, no more introspection, no more memories! He drew his lightsaber, ignited it, and faced Luke proudly.

Luke reached into the brown cloak he wore and drew out a lightsaber. His face was firm, set, determined. Ren didn't have to read his mind to know that Luke didn't want to do this; he felt he had to. Ren waited, wondering if he'd be able to tell when Luke reconnected with the Force for the first time in...how many years? Luke ignited the lightsaber. The plasma blade was white.

"That's not yours," Ren said. It wasn't the lightsaber Luke had used to attempt to murder him all those years ago. The blade of that lightsaber had been green. But this was a Jedi island. Why wouldn't there be either an extra or the materials required to make another?

Luke didn't acknowledge his comment. He stepped forward and raised his weapon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An irrelephant. :D


	8. Eight: Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A big thanks to @Technoplague for the comment! :D
> 
> The only thing worse than a bad joke is a bad pun...
> 
> Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off?

Armitage Hux stood at the edge of the flattened area at the summit of the island, his back to the endless ocean, and watched the fight begin. In front of him, Ren faced off with Luke Skywalker.

Had Hux been betting on the fight, he would've put his money on Ren. Ren had been right when he'd called Skywalker an old man—old, gray, and worn out. Hux knew that Skywalker would be a formidable enemy—that was one reason he needed to be killed for the safety of the galaxy—but he believed that Ren had grown in strength and skill beyond his former master's, and Skywalker's strength and skill had atrophied from lack of use. But still, he had one hand laid casually on his blaster, just in case.

The two men faced each other, lightsabers drawn, for long moments before either moved. Ren struck first, lunging forward, and Skywalker blocked the strike with his lightsaber. The two plasma blades crashed against each other and Ren's hissed and spat with the contact. Then it was Skywalker's turn to strike, and Ren blocked.

Hux stood back and watched. He couldn't help but feel he was watching several battles at the same time.

He had done this little more than a week ago in Supreme Leader Snoke's throne room. Snoke had been cut down by Ren, the lightsaber flung from his hand to decapitate the Supreme Leader, and just when Hux felt that the whole event was over, the Praetorian Guard came to life. They had stood like red-armored statues throughout the confrontation—and at all other times Hux had been inside the throne room, so the sudden motion startled Hux. But he was prepared; he had a blaster—not his own, but it would do.

The anticipated battle, in which he was a hero, failed to occur because of that kriffing red armor. As Ren swept the first guard he faced off his feet, Hux fired on one of the other guards, but the blaster bolt bounced off, did no damage. A second bolt had the same lack of effect. Before the guards decided he was a danger to them, and thus made him a target, Hux backed off. Feeling guilty and helpless, he made himself useful by retrieving the discarded lightsaber, and standing off to the side. He thought he would use the lightsaber on one of the guards, but he had never held one of these weapons before, much less wielded one, and he knew he would get himself killed if he tried. Self-preservation trumped guilt for his inaction. Besides, Ren was doing well on his own.

Hux watched the battle from the sidelines as Ren stole a double-bladed sword and used it like a master, even though it was his first time using one—or so Hux assumed. He realized he hadn't seen all of Ren's battles. Even with the unfamiliar weapon, Ren took down the guards one after another after another. His body was built for battling.

Hux had stood uselessly at the side, watching, until his moment came when Ren fell to the final of the eight guards. As the guard stood over him, weapon poised to kill, Hux had stabbed the guard through the chest with Ren's own lightsaber. He'd had a victory as well.

Keeping space between them, Skywalker and Ren moved around the flattened area, always facing each other, always poised to spring, to lunge, to thrust. Once Ren took several steps backward to keep that buffer space, and the heel of his black boot landed on the edge of the flat area, which crumbled beneath his boot and sent pebbles scattering down the steep incline. But he was so focused on his body—Hux presumed this—that he recovered effortlessly, as though nothing had happened.

He lunged back at Skywalker, who dodged the blade and sent a return thrust that scored the first hit of the battle. The white plasma blade sliced a cut through the left arm of Ren's uniform jacket and into his flesh. Ren winced, grunted, and threw himself back into the fight as if he felt no pain. He blocked the next swing of Skywalker's lightsaber and dodged the one after that.

Blade met blade in a rapid sequence of thrusts and parries. Ren scored several hits in quick succession, Skywalker wincing with pain with each, but also took a few hits to his arm, his side, his jaw. He fought as if he felt nothing. His blade flew even faster and Skywalker's moved to block each swing.

Ren must be acting through pure instinct. Hux didn't think conscious thought could react as fast as Ren's body did.

Years before, in the first month of being introduced to Ren, even before the search for Skywalker had begun, Hux had watched a different battle, this one on Ren's hunt for one of his Jedi temple peers, who had betrayed him and fled. Ren had been pursuing him for weeks and Snoke had ordered Hux to be his babysitter because Hux was stable and responsible and Ren was...not.

Hux had found his place at the sideline of Ren's battle for the first time in the darkness of a jungle on some insignificant planet. Ren had caught the fleeing peer in a clearing in the midst of the tangled jungle, and finally the other boy—he looked like little more than a boy, though he must be twenty-five—turned to face him. "You betrayed me!" Ren shouted, igniting his lightsaber. He'd been itching to use it; Hux knew because he'd seen Ren's fingers clasp around the hilt many times during this foolish chase.

"You're a monster!" the boy shouted back. "You kill—and kill—and kill."

"You knew who I was when you came with me," Ren returned. "You saw what I did."

"I didn't choose to come with you," the boy said. "You made me. You all made me. I didn't use my lightsaber to cut my way out of the temple. I just followed. And you—you all tried to make me into what you are. A monster. I don't want to be a monster. I refuse! I don't want to kill you, but if I have to, to get away, I will."

Ren laughed. Through the mask, the noise sounded even more sinister.

The boy shivered in the flickering light of Ren's lightsaber and Hux felt a stab of pity for him. But he ignited his own lightsaber, yellow, and lunged forward. He was a good fighter—their blades met and parted, met and parted, sliding against each other, sending sparks flying from Ren's ragged plasma blade, the light illuminating the jungle in eerie glowing patterns.

The battle grew faster, more frantic, the blows harder, the hesitations between shorter. But every move the boy made, Ren was a little faster, a little smoother, a little stronger. His body moved like it was built for this. There couldn't be time for conscious thought; it was pure reaction. For the first time, Hux admired Ren, saw him as something special, not just Supreme Leader Snoke's pet project.

The victor was inevitable. Throughout the whole fight, Hux could not have believed that Ren would lose this battle, and he didn't. Between one strike and another, he lunged in close and thrust his lightsaber through the boy's chest. In the yellow-red glow, Hux could see the boy's grimace, and then the slackness of death.

Ren had withdrawn his lightsaber, extinguished it, and watched callously as the body slumped to the ground. Then he had turned away and, as if nothing had happened, called to Hux, "Let's go."

White plasma blade met jagged red and they slid across each other as Skywalker and Ren stepped in close. Now Ren put more pressure on the blade and held contact, pushing against Skywalker, and the man took a step back. Hux felt a jolt of excitement—Ren was going to win.

It had been perhaps a year or two ago when Hux had last felt this emotionally invested in one of Ren's battles. They had gone together down to a planet for an unusually located meeting that Hux was forced to attend. Ren had accompanied him. Hux had thought Supreme Leader Snoke forced that accompaniment just to annoy him, but he had found later that this was not the case.

They were in a bar of some sort after the meeting to get something to eat. Hux didn't drink intoxicating beverages, and neither did Ren, so their behavior was different from that of the usual patrons, and apparently inexplicable to the regulars. All Hux wanted was some food— _good_ food, not the slop he'd seen elsewhere—and a cup of tea. Ren would eat anything without complaint, and he laughed at Hux as if he were a child with picky eating habits.

Hux ordered from the bar while Ren kept their table in the corner. Ren had told Hux to choose anything for him, while Hux asked several questions about the content of the food before he requested it for himself. He finally put in his order and turned back to return to their table when he ran into a man, who was standing with his arms folded over his chest and a cruel smile on his lips.

"Going back to your boyfriend?" the man taunted. "I'm surprised he lets his girl wander in a bar like this."

For a second, Hux was too startled to be indignant, but he recovered. He knew better than to engage with belligerent, drunken men like this one. He took a step sideways to go around the man and return to the table, but the man stepped with him. "Get out of my way," Hux snapped.

The man grabbed the front of Hux's shirt and yanked him close. "What did you say to me?" he demanded. His breath smelled of alcohol.

For the first time, Hux felt fear. His hand went for his blaster, but came up empty. He tried to wrench himself away. "Let go of me! Do you know who I am?"

"I know who you will be," the man said. "The pussy for me and my buddies over there." He smiled again, baring his teeth. "Now why don't you—"

Out of nowhere, the man toppled sideways against the bar, sending plates and glasses clattering to the dirty floor, where they shattered. He roared, picking himself up, and found himself facing Ren. Ren, who had removed his mask for the meal, had a dark expression on his face, and his brown eyes were blazing. His fist was raised and Hux realized it was this that had knocked the man against the bar.

The man roused himself and Hux took several steps back before he could become a target again. Ren was faster and he caught the man in the jaw with his fist, but the man grabbed his black robes and held him as he punched, once to the outside of his left eye, and once to his lip. Ren's lip split and blood trickled down his chin, but he didn't seem to notice.

What followed was a fistfight that Hux watched in awe and horror. Around him, patrons of the bar were cheering for one or the other—or perhaps for both. Hux was breathless, hoping that they both weren't going to be murdered—or raped, which seemed just as likely—on this hopeless little planet.

Finally, the man had dropped to his knees, and Hux had felt a jolt of excitement. Ren had won. However, before they could feel too good about victory, the two newcomers Hux and Ren—the latter bloody and bruised but exulting in it—had been kicked out of the bar.

But Ren's battle against Skywalker was not at its end. Skywalker recovered and shoved Ren back to give him space. They circled, each ready to lunge, and Ren called out, "Give up, old man. You know you're going to lose."

"If you strike me down in anger, this will haunt you forever," Skywalker said.

"Perhaps," Ren said, and Hux knew he was thinking about killing his mother and his father, both deaths that would likely haunt him forever. "But I'm going to do it anyway."

He lunged, but Skywalker dodged sideways, and Ren staggered forward, losing his balance. In one horrifying moment, Hux realized that Ren was going to lose, but that didn't mean that Skywalker would live. Hux drew his blaster and aimed.

Not too long after the bar fight, when Hux had still been feeling a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment, he and Ren had been visiting one of the First Order's other battlecruisers when there had been a conflict.

Of course there had been a conflict! It seemed wherever Ren went, there was some conflict or confrontation. While it was nice to be protected from rape and murder, this situation would obviously not come to that. But Ren didn't care. He wanted to fight, and he would fight anyone who would engage with him; he would fight anyone who didn't, too.

Hux, who usually stood back and let the opponents work things out, was so sick of that role that for once he stepped in. "Stop it, Ren! He's not your enemy," he snapped loudly.

Ren, lightsaber in hand, adversary pinned back against the wall with the Force, did not stop. He ignored Hux and ignited his lightsaber. He was going to kill the poor officer and later on, he would expect Hux to cover for him if Supreme Leader Snoke questioned the necessity of the death.

And Hux was done. As Ren raised his lightsaber, Hux drew his blaster and aimed—at Ren.

He had fired and the bolt had caught Ren in the arm. He'd made no sound and he hadn't dropped the lightsaber, but he'd released the officer and lowered his arm. He'd turned to Hux, and Hux could feel the intensity of his glare even through the mask, and had used the Force to fling him across the room.

Hux held the blaster level, certain that he was about to witness two deaths, neither of which would be devastating to him. But Ren turned his stagger into a roll and easily got to his feet—behind Skywalker. Before the old man could turn, Ren plunged the lightsaber through his back and out his chest.

Hux saw the plasma blade emerge through the front of Skywalker's shirt. He saw the grimace and then the slackness of death.

Hux wanted to laugh with relief and cheer with victory, but he did neither. He stood back and watched Ren, who was gazing down at the corpse of the former Jedi Master, and let Ren have a moment to choose his own reaction. Just as he thought Ren was having a moment of mourning for his uncle, Ren lifted his head and looked over. He was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's all right now.
> 
> (I'm so sorry.)
> 
> In case you hadn't noticed, the writer has discovered the flashback! I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.


	9. Nine: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thanks to @Technoplague for the comment! :D I love comments! <3
> 
> I swear this joke is better than the last one.
> 
> How do you keep an elephant from charging?

Kylo Ren didn't realize that he was grinning until he looked at Hux and saw the expression of shock on his face. He wasn't sure how the grin had won out over the frown of concern and the twist of pain and the blankness of exhaustion. He shook his head to clear it and turned away from the body of his uncle. He was done here.

From the moment he had first felt pain, Ren had known he was going to win. With each strike, each wound, each injury, Luke had given him more power and more strength and more determination. The Jedi were fools not to embrace pain. But now that the battle was finished, he felt the pain intensify until it became a liability.

Hux was staring down the steep incline with an expression of dismay on his face. "I don't suppose there's any way of calling the shuttle to us," he said.

Ren laughed derisively, but offered words of encouragement. "You made it up. Going down will be easier." He deliberately chose to put off examining his body for specific sources of pain until he had an opportunity to do something about them, and so he took his first step down the hill. Hux followed.

Ren needed to stop once going down the stairs, but he stopped twice to be kind to Hux. He couldn't figure out why he _wanted_ to be kind to Hux. The wind whipped at his hair and tugged at his cloak. Clouds were moving in and Ren hoped it wasn't going to rain. This descent was miserable enough without rain.

It seemed like hours had passed when they finally stood at the foot of the island and the command shuttle. Ren looked up and up at the black wings as the loading ramp lowered. At last, he boarded the shuttle and dropped onto a bench in the passenger compartment. He wasn't ready to fly yet.

Hux dug through a cabinet and returned with a medpac. "The lightsaber cauterized most of the wounds, but you have a few scratches," he said. He dipped a cotton ball into antiseptic and reached for Ren's face. Gently, he dabbed the cotton in a line along Ren's jaw.

The antiseptic stung the wound, but Ren didn't mind. He was enjoying gentle Hux. He didn't see that side of Hux often—almost never. "I think I have another scratch on my side," he said, hoping that gentle Hux would tend to that as well.

"Take off your shirt," Hux said. He dipped the cotton into the antiseptic again as he waited.

With some effort, Ren shed his cloak, removed the black uniform jacket, and pulled his undershirt off over his head. There was indeed a bleeding scratch on his side, near to the still-pink scar from his last big battle.

Hux dabbed the wet cotton ball across this scratch. Ren noticed him looking at the existing scar and wondered if he was remembering the fight as well. Today had been similar to the battle with the Praetorian Guard, even down to Hux's willingness to step in and ensure victory at the end, though this time Ren had been the victor without Hux's support.

Ren shivered. The outside air had been chilly and now with the sweat evaporating off his damp skin he was getting cold. But he would keep his shirt off as long as Hux was willing to touch him.

Hux took a tube of bacta out of the medpac and put away the antiseptic. He dabbed the slimy bacta onto the bleeding side scratch he had just tended, and then applied more to the other lightsaber wounds on his side and arms. Last, he cupped Ren's cheek to lift his chin so that he could apply bacta to the scratch on his jaw.

Ren knew the kiss was coming, so he tipped his face upward to give Hux better access to his lips and shut his eyes. Hux brushed his lips across Ren's slowly and gently, retreated, and pressed his lips to Ren's lips. Ren quivered, wondering how far this kiss was going to go, and how far he wanted it to go. Hux's lips were so soft, so sweet, but with the feelings inside of him, and the interpersonal conflict between the two of them, he wasn't sure it was right to be kissing. Yet his lips parted and he welcomed Hux's tongue into his mouth.

Hux probed with his tongue and invited himself deeper, exploring, tasting, coaxing. Ren leaned forward, seeking more. He had missed kisses like this, like they'd had at the beginning, before everything became about control and pain. He wanted more, not just in his mind; his entire body craved more. He gave himself in to the kiss.

Hux sucked Ren's lower lip into his mouth and nibbled on it. Ren drew in a shaky breath. This was so much more sensual than what they usually had together. Just this kiss was better than some of the sex they'd had. He felt his skin tingling. He felt desire welling up inside of him. He willed Hux to come closer, to give him more, but he didn't dare move in case he destroyed this moment.

Hux curled his hand around the back of Ren's neck to hold him close. Ren tipped his head to the side for a better angle, tangling his tongue with Hux's tongue, begging for more. He knew he should stop, but knew he couldn't stop, and then Hux groaned softly and Ren felt it thrill through his whole body.

Suddenly, Hux stopped and pulled away. As he stepped back, Ren saw the bulge in the front of Hux's pants, and he awkwardly adjusted the position of his arm across his lap to cover his own response. Hux turned away and busied himself putting the medpac back into its cabinet. Ren got up, snatched the clothing he'd shed, and climbed into the cockpit of the command shuttle.

Away from Hux, he dressed again, putting on his undershirt and his uniform jacket. There were slices in the fabric again, but he would get the laundry droid to fix them when they returned to the _Supremacy_. And that was where they were heading now, as soon as he got the shuttle off the ground.

He breezed through systems checks and pre-flight procedures. The motions were natural to him, almost automatic, which was good because his mind wasn't entirely focused on the tasks before him. He thought he'd be worried about killing his uncle after the deed was done, but all he could think about was Hux.

He glanced around, listened closely for sounds of movement, and, having determined that he wouldn't be interrupted, crammed his left hand down the front of his pants. His cock was still hard and his arousal didn't seem to be relenting. Right-handed he operated the shuttle, getting it through preparation and then into the air. Left-handed he rubbed his erection as fast as he could, trying to get off and get it over with as quickly as possible.

This treatment was a little too rough on his cock. His foreskin retracted a lot when he was erect and maybe it was this that made him more sensitive. But he needed to get off now, so he'd tolerate the discomfort.

He had no fantasy to work from except for the kiss, but that memory and Hux's soft groan were enough. That sound, that vulnerable little expression of pleasure and desire turned him on more than he'd like to admit. He wondered what it would be like for Hux to submit to him. He winced at the yanking and adjusted the position of his hand.

Yes, he would cover up the newest unpleasant additions to his thoughts about sex with Hux with images of Hux underneath him, Hux submitting, Hux giving in, vulnerable Hux—all of it consensual, enjoyed by both of them. Hux would be naked beneath him, would receive acts that until now he had only given. And he would make those beautiful little groans.

Ren was plotting their course through hyperspace when he finally came, biting his lip hard to keep silent. Panting, he extracted his hand from his lamentably sticky pants and engaged the hyperdrive. Then he sat back, shut his eyes, and breathed deep, even, steady breaths. He hadn't realized how drained he was—physically and emotionally. The slow rhythm of his breaths soothed him.

"Are you sleeping?" Hux asked, startling him.

Ren didn't know how much time had passed since he'd shut his eyes, nor did he know if he'd been asleep or just exhausted and distracted. He opened his eyes and said, "I'm awake." He looked over at Hux, who sat down in the copilot's seat, and wondered if Hux had done the same thing in his private time. "What do you want?"

Hux shrugged and stared out at the glow of hyperspace.

Ren did the same. His gaze was directed at the stars, but his attention was on Hux. The last time he had looked into Hux's mind, he had regretted it, but he was curious now. What did Hux feel for him, or feel about him? What were his plans? He knew that Hux wanted to destroy the Force-sensitive youth as soon as possible, but they had another task to complete together before that happened. Would Hux follow through with their task or would he try to run off again? Finding out the truth was an adequate reason for using the Force to read his mind. There was no way he could find anything more disturbing than what he'd seen the last time.

He focused on Hux's mind and dove in.

This time he was not immediately assaulted with a movie-like playback of some sick fantasy, but there was an intense undercurrent of goal-directed thought and planning. There were flickers of ideas and the most intense looked like a scene of which Ren remembered himself being a part.

Hux stood, watching him, though what Ren was doing that needed watching was unclear. Then Hux drew his blaster, raised it, and aimed...at him. But rather than shoot him in the arm, as the memory was supposed to go, Hux pointed the blaster at his head and shot a bolt between his eyes. Ren fell, dead.

As a part of Ren decried the scene as preposterous because Hux's aim had never been that good, the other part riffled through the other flickers and found them all pointing toward a single goal: killing him.

Hux wanted him dead.

Ren supposed he shouldn't be surprised. After all, he believed that Hux needed to die. He dug a little deeper and learned the reason: a fear and hatred of the Force and Force users in general. But before he could seek out more details, he noticed Hux rubbing his temples as if he had a headache. Immediately he withdrew. Getting caught could prove disastrous.

He wondered now how afraid he should be of Hux. Already he had learned that Hux desired to rape him—or at least took great pleasure in imagining it. And now he knew that Hux wanted to kill him and was entertaining ideas of how he might do so. He would have to be very careful from now on. He could never fully relax and certainly never sleep unguarded in Hux's presence.

He was too tired to feel angry, and it would be too hypocritical to feel betrayed, but he knew he could stir up those feelings if it mattered. They would probably come to him later on, in his quarters, where he couldn't take them out on Hux. He debated taking them out on Hux even without feeling them, but decided he would rather rest. If Hux annoyed or disturbed him, then he would get angry.

But Hux sat silently in the copilot's seat and gazed at the stars for the rest of the return journey to the _Supremacy_. And when Ren had set the command shuttle down in the hangar, Hux debarked and walked away without saying a word. Ren could have been angry about that, too, but since he was glad not to talk to Hux, that anger would have been hypocritical, too. Later, though, later he would feel it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take away its credit card. :P


	10. Ten: Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, comment! Thank you, @Technoplague! <3
> 
> I'm now the proud owner of a General Hux tee-shirt. :D [This one](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B077859SP6/). What do you think?
> 
> Do you want to hear a joke about a pizza?

The first thing Armitage Hux did upon his return to the _Supremacy_ was eat. He ordered a hot meal delivered to his quarters and paced the perimeter of the living area until the food arrived.

But when he sat down to his meal, he had difficulty eating. Every time he picked up his fork, an intense feeling arose inside of him. It wasn't a feeling he could label. Although he could analyze his feelings, he wasn't skilled at labeling—or even understanding—them. He tried to avoid feeling them; he could label that. He knew anger and its degrees. He knew sadness, though he rarely felt it. He knew happiness and joy, two more that he rarely felt. Other feelings he could try, and sometimes he knew, but often he was left confused. He knew confusion and he hated it.

Hux wanted everything to be in order. No confusion, no chaos, no disarray. Order. He expected that of his subordinates, and his equal, and himself as well. But now his life was not in order, and perhaps it was that that bothered him.

Finally, he managed to brush his feelings away so that he could eat.

The second thing he did was shower. His normal duties didn't include battles or painful hikes up mountain islands. His uniform was a mess of sweat and dirt, and his body was even worse. He was still sore from his run in the gym and now sore from the interminable climb as well. The water shower in the gym locker room tempted him, but there were memories there that he didn't want to confront.

The sonic shower got him clean and that was all he needed. He dressed in casual clothes—the kind he only wore in the privacy of his own quarters—and sat down in his favorite chair with a cup of tea and the reports he'd missed in the time he'd been away. He could finally relax and do something he was good at. He spent hours there, engrossed in his work, until he decided it was time for him to go to bed.

He lay in bed for only a short period of time before he concluded that he was never going to fall asleep. He got up, changed his clothes, and went to do something he was certain that he'd soon regret.

Phasma was in the gym when he unlocked the door and stepped inside. She was working on the pec deck machine again. He walked resignedly across the gym until he stopped in front of her. "I'm ready," he said.

She smiled and brushed a strand of golden hair away from her face. Every time she did that, she looked like a woman, not the captain he was accustomed to, hidden behind chrome armor. "Personal trainer to the Grand Marshal," she said. She got up from the machine. "Sit." She was wasting no time. Maybe she was afraid he'd run away if she hesitated. He was thinking about it.

He sat awkwardly on the seat with his back against the padded chair. The seat was already warm. He couldn't tell if it was damp with her sweat as well, but he hoped not. There were times when sweat was acceptable, even sexy, but outside of those times even his own sweat was unpleasant; someone else's sweat was disgusting.

"Bend your elbows and put your forearms on the outside of the padded bar—no, not like that." She moved his forearms. "Grip those handles. Yes, like that. Now wait while I adjust the weights."

Hux gripped the handles and waited while she adjusted the weights. She did a lot of adjusting. Did she really think he was that much weaker than she was? He considered being insulted, but then he wondered how weak he really was. What would he do if he failed even after she'd made it easy on him?

"Bring your forearms together using the muscles of your chest," she ordered.

Hux tried, struggling with the weights and the unfamiliar movement, and the long-sleeved shirt that was obviously too constricting for this particular activity.

Phasma saw it, too. "Take off your shirt," she commanded.

"What?"

"Take off your shirt."

Hux didn't move.

"I've seen you shirtless before. Don't be embarrassed. And don't be stupid." She folded her arms across her chest and waited. He knew that she was being kind and sweet with him compared to the way she treated the stormtroopers she trained.

He got up and peeled his shirt off over his head. He tried to fold it, but she grabbed it out of his hands and threw it onto the floor. He opened his mouth to protest, and didn't. Phasma would use that as fodder for teasing later.

"Sit down. Arms up," she said. "Now try again."

He sat down—the back of the seat was moist and repulsive—and put his arms back into position. He gripped the handles and brought his forearms together in front of his body using his chest muscles. He made a sound, something between a grunt and a gasp, and released. The weights clanked together.

"Never bang the weights like that," she chided. She adjusted the weights again. "Try." She stood by his right elbow and waited.

Hux tried _again_ , but this time he could do it. He had to put effort into bringing his arms together, but he could do it. He smiled with his victory—small though it might be—and continued nine more times.

"Rest. Then ten more," Phasma said. "Ten reps, three sets."

He rested, noticed his own sweat on his chest and face, but didn't allow himself time to pay attention to it. He started again, counting up to ten in his head.

Around six, he heard a noise and looked over at the gym door. Ren had entered the gym and stopped one step inside. Before Hux could say anything, Ren turned on his heel and left. Hux knew he would hear about it next time he saw Ren and he wasn't looking forward to the impending mockery.

"Don't let him distract you," Phasma ordered.

Hux looked straight ahead and counted aloud up from six.

After three sets on the pec deck, Hux got up. "I can't do anything more tonight," he said. It was admitting weakness, but he knew his chest would hurt in the morning, and he'd rather not add another sore body part. Painful chest and shoulders _and_ legs would be bad enough.

"You're dismissed," Phasma said. "Wipe off the equipment before you leave it."

Hux wiped off the seat, pulled his shirt back on, and left the gym. He would need another shower, but he was taking it in his own refresher. He just hoped that no one saw him on the walk back to his quarters. His shirt stuck to his damp upper body; sweat beaded on his face; and his hair was ruffled and wet. He didn't think he'd sweat that much doing three short sets. He wiped his face on his sleeve.

He almost expected Ren to be waiting for him outside of the gym, but the corridors were empty. He made it back to his quarters, showered and took care of his clothes, and climbed into bed. He was asleep within minutes.

His alarm would have woken him at the usual time of six in the morning, but it didn't get a chance to. Fifteen minutes before the time he usually rose, pounding on his door startled him out of sleep. He leapt out of bed, expecting an emergency, and answered the door in his dressing gown. It was not an emergency; it was Ren.

Ren pushed past him into his quarters. "We need to talk."

Hux bristled and drew his velour dressing gown tighter around his body. "Bring me breakfast and we can talk."

Ren glared at him, but Hux met his gaze without blinking. Finally, Ren said, "I'm hungry, too. I'll get breakfast. I know you're picky. Is there anything you won't eat?"

Hux had forgotten that Ren would do this to him. "It's breakfast. I'll eat anything they're serving." He knew that Ren would try to bring him something he didn't like, and he vowed to eat whatever it was that Ren brought him. "Now go get me food."

While Ren was fetching breakfast, Hux showered gingerly. He was sore. Even muscles he didn't think he'd used were sore. He dressed again in a clean uniform—ironed days ago and hanging up on a hangar since then—and made himself a cup of tea, and then seated himself at the little table in the living area to wait for Ren.

Breakfast smelled so delicious that Hux didn't care what it was. He didn't ask. He let Ren lay out the plate and tableware before him, and then ate whatever it was. Most of it he didn't recognize—Ren had obviously tried hard—but it was meat and a bread substance, and it tasted good. Ren, on the other hand, had more normal breakfast fare.

Hux didn't speak until he'd finished eating. Then he asked, "Why are you here?"

"We have plans to make," Ren said. He was upset about something. Hux could hear it in his voice, see it in the darkness of his expression and the fire in his eyes. His body language was defensive, almost hostile. "And they don't include your little pet project."

"Pet project?" Hux asked.

"The children."

"They're youths," Hux corrected. He didn't give Ren a chance to quibble over words beyond that. "What plans do we have to make?"

"We're going to find the dregs of the Resistance and annihilate them," Ren said passionately.

"We still have to _find_ the Resistance," Hux said. "We need to do that first."

"They're still on D'Qar," Ren said.

"That's ridiculous," Hux said. "There's no way they'd stay on D'Qar—or anywhere in or near the Ileenium system. They're not that stupid."

"They have nowhere else to go and no one to take them there," Ren said.

"They'll find a place and a person. They're resource—"

"They're on D'Qar!" Ren shouted.

Hux sighed. "What is wrong with you this morning?"

Ren looked like he was going to shout again, but he didn't. "We're wasting time," he said.

"Since when are you concerned about wasting time? You were happy to waste time before we confronted Luke Skywalker," Hux said.

"That wasn't wasting time. That was planning. That was recovering from my injuries."

"That was having sex instead of meetings," Hux supplied.

Ren had no retort to that. He looked embarrassed.

"That was all you wanted to do," Hux prodded.

"All _I_ wanted to do? You instigated as much as I did!"

"I did at the beginning," Hux said. "And then I realized what a disappointment you were sexually and I stopped."

Ren looked hurt, but then his eyes narrowed in annoyance or suspicion. Hux hoped it was annoyance. "You must be terrible at communication because I never got the impression that you weren't having a good time."

"If you never got that impression, you're the one who's terrible at communication," Hux said. He was enjoying this. Ren was so easy to bait. "I can read body language, too. Like I know right now that something is upsetting you, something that you're not telling me."

"You just want to know what it is," Ren said defensively.

That was true. "I don't care what your secret is. The point is that I know you're keeping one," Hux said.

Ren didn't reply. He was trying to control his anger. Hux had seen it enough to know what it looked like.

"Oh, you're mad now. It must be a big, bad secret if you're angry I know it exists," Hux taunted.

Ren picked up his empty plate and bashed it against the edge of the table. The plate broke into pieces and left a jagged piece in Ren's hand. He leaned across the table and held the shard to Hux's throat. "You will shut your mouth about secrets and plan with me like a decent human being."

Hux had pushed too hard. He eased backward and pressed his lips together. "I will if you agree to do the same," he said. "Threatening me with a plate is hardly—" He shut his mouth when Ren pressed the sharp edge of the plate shard to the skin of his throat. "Okay."

"The Resistance is still on D'Qar," Ren said. He laid the shard of plate on the table within easy reach. "We need to take our troops and—"

"No," Hux interrupted. "We cannot just take stormtroopers to D'Qar because you guess the Resistance is still hiding there. It would be a waste of our time and our personnel."

Ren paused. "I think they're there and you think that's stupid. You don't want to waste our stormtroopers' time, so we go instead. We'll be the scouting party. If we find them, we bring the stormtroopers. If we don't, you can pursue other avenues of locating the Resistance."

Hux was surprised at Ren's reasonable compromise and presentation of it. He didn't want to go on another mission alone with Ren, but if it saved him from the humiliation of dragging his stormtroopers across the galaxy for nothing, he'd agree to it. "Agreed," he said. "We leave tomorrow morning," he added before Ren could fill in a time. He wanted another day to recover from his over-exertion before he went running off. If the Resistance was there today, it would be there tomorrow too.

Ren nodded. "But if I catch you sneaking out to find those kriffing kids...." He raised the shard of plate again and smiled.

"I wasn't even thinking of it," Hux said. He didn't know for sure if Ren would kill him in premeditated circumstances, but he was certain that Ren wouldn't hesitate in the moment if something infuriated him enough. Hux had a blaster and a dagger, but if Ren drew his lightsaber, Hux was dead.

"Tomorrow morning, six, I'll be here," Ren said. He got up from the table and headed for the door. Just as he was about to open it, he turned back. "How was your...workout last night?"

Hux was startled that it came as a question and not as mocking. He had expected Ren to ridicule him about everything from his choice of trainer to his shirtless body. "Phasma is a tough mistress," he said.

Ren opened the door and left without speaking.

Hux contemplated this reaction for a few moments, and then smiled. Ren was jealous of whatever was going on between Hux and Phasma. He had no reason to be jealous. Hux and Phasma respected each other as equals—or near equals; there was nothing unseemly going on between them. But Ren didn't know this and Hux thought it would be amusing to exploit this weakness.

But he wasn't going back to the gym tonight. His body wasn't ready for another of Phasma's workouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never mind. It's too cheesy.


	11. Eleven: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm _almost_ halfway done posting this here. I have my next project in mind, for when I'm done editing and posting this one, and I'm hoping the next one will be slightly more popular. :P Anyway...enjoy! :)
> 
> Have you ever tried to eat a clock?

Kylo Ren was ready an hour before he'd agreed to meet Hux. He'd gone to the gym and worked himself hard—harder every time the memory of Hux, half-naked, working out with Phasma at his side came into his mind. He'd taken a long shower, put on his uniform, and then taken it off again because it was wrinkled. Out of spite and stubbornness, he had summoned a laundry droid to iron his jacket and trousers, and then he had gone to eat breakfast in the officers' lounge. It was empty at that time of morning, as usual, and he'd had to hunt down his own food, as usual. There was nothing to pack for a short scouting mission, so he just checked his lightsaber. After that, he'd sat in his quarters and tried to plan, but he'd kept getting distracted. By Hux, as usual.

The day before had been awkward. He hadn't intended for their planning meeting to go the way it had. Hux wasn't the same as he used to be. He had changed for the better, Ren thought, when they came to their agreement, but then he'd changed back. He'd become worse than he'd been before. Ren didn't know what he'd done to effect this change. And he couldn't figure out how Hux could be so gentle and later on so cruel. Ren at least was consistent. Consistently unpredictable.

When the time finally came, he left his quarters ten minutes earlier than he needed to, and took a longer route. He reached Hux's quarters and found him waiting just inside the door.

Hux seemed more pleasant than usual; he didn't say anything, but he was almost smiling, and the silence was companionable instead of hostile. Ren was immediately suspicious. Hux was never pleasant without good reason. And since this mission was one he hadn't wanted to go on, there must be some other reason.

Ren boarded the command shuttle with Hux behind him and they both climbed into the cockpit. Ren did systems checks and pre-flight procedures almost without thinking, and the shuttle was ready to take off. They left the hangar and the _Supremacy_ behind. Ren engaged the hyperdrive and the shuttle headed for the Ileenium system.

"Did you go to the gym this morning?" Hux asked pleasantly.

"I go every morning—almost," Ren said. It was his tradition to visit the gym early in the morning, before it opened to the general public. Unless he was injured or away, he went to the gym. It felt good to work out and use his muscles. It was cathartic as well.

"I didn't go again last night. Phasma worked me too hard the night before," Hux said.

How did he know exactly the right thing to say? Or perhaps it was exactly the wrong thing to say, but regardless, he so often knew just what to say in order to stir up emotions—usually anger, but often others as well—inside Ren.

Ren didn't want to hear about Phasma; he didn't want to think about Phasma. Again, the memory played for him: Hux shirtless, Phasma at his side, alone together in that deserted gym. He didn't know why the memory stirred up emotions and he couldn't label exactly what those emotions were. He was usually more in tune with his emotions, even if it was only the acknowledgment that they were too tangled and intense to label individually.

"She's agreed to be my _personal_ trainer," Hux continued.

Ren didn't like the sound of that. "What is she training you in?" he asked.

"For years she's wanted to teach me how to use my body," Hux said. "I've finally decided to let her."

Ren gritted his teeth. He didn't like the way that sounded either.

Hux looked over at him with an expression that was as predatory as it was pleasant. "Don't get upset. It's not like that."

"I'm not upset," Ren snapped. He turned his attention to the controls of the command shuttle and pretended to be busy with those. "Go away. I'll tell you when we get there."

Hux smiled faintly and Ren wanted to punch him. He clenched his fists and tried to resist the action. Hux must have noticed this, as he stood abruptly and left the cockpit for the passenger compartment. It was a long time before Ren was ready to relax his fists.

It was jealousy, he realized, but it was unwarranted. First, because he could tell now that Hux was trying to provoke him intentionally by implying something that wasn't true. And second, because even if Hux were sexually involved with Phasma, Ren didn't care. So he told himself.

As he sat alone, he wondered if he could get away with killing Hux before they annihilated the Resistance, but there was no point in thinking that now. He would have had to make the decision before they left for this scouting party mission. At this point, he would be better off waiting until they were done on D'Qar. Perhaps on the return journey to the _Supremacy_ he'd do it.

As promised, Ren called Hux to the cockpit when he dropped out of hyperspace above D'Qar. He looked down at the surface of the verdant planet and wished he could see the remaining members of the Resistance scurrying around down there. They would be hiding themselves in the underground buildings, so it might be a challenge to convince Hux that they were indeed still on the planet. But if they were all roughly in the same area, they would be easier to kill en masse.

"I'm going to land the shuttle away from their headquarters," he said. "We'll have to walk to get there, but it's better than landing the command shuttle in the middle of their ships."

"The command shuttle isn't discreet. If they were here, we wouldn't be able to land without their noticing," Hux said.

"They'll notice if they're outside, but we'll be able to sneak closer. We're quiet and discreet. We'll be able to determine that they're present without being spotted," Ren said. "But they'll be hiding inside. They won't suspect a thing."

"You can't possibly know all this," Hux said.

"I know how they think," Ren said. "You don't."

Hux didn't argue, but it was clear that he didn't agree either. "Let's get this over with."

Ren landed the command shuttle in a clearing on the surface of D'Qar three kilometers from the headquarters of the Resistance. The surrounding trees were almost high enough to conceal the thirty-meter-tall wings. He and Hux disembarked and started the hike toward the base.

The surface of D'Qar was a mixture of deciduous forest and jungle. The ground was covered in dead leaves and knotted roots in places and in snaking vines in others, but there was a faint path for them to follow. Ren was comfortable with the walk; he found it neither strenuous nor challenging. Hux, on the other hand, did not appreciate the chance to breathe fresh air and enjoy an environment not controlled by machines.

"I'm never going hiking with you again," Hux muttered.

"You're a runner. You can't be suffering too much from a little hike," Ren said.

"Your kinds of hikes are different from—how do you know I'm a runner?"

Ren looked straight ahead. "I've seen you run in the gym."

"But you've never been in the gym when I've been running," Hux said.

"I came in once when you were running and left so I wouldn't disturb you," Ren said. It was the truth, but he was leaving out the part where he stood in the doorway and watched Hux run for many minutes before he left. He'd never imagined that Hux's slender body could move that way, run that fast.

Hux tripped over a root and swore. He straightened up and continued walking, a step behind Ren. "A treadmill is different from this mess."

"That's what makes this better," Ren said.

Hux muttered something indistinct and straggled farther behind. Ren made no further comments.

In half an hour, they came to the open area where the Resistance had built its base. All was quiet and still. Ren was certain that the Resistance was hiding here, though he couldn't explain how he knew. He stepped cautiously onto the paved area that led toward the base. As far as he could tell, the starships and starfighters were all still there, but the Resistance could have escaped on a single ship if they'd needed to. He knew, though; he knew they were here.

With Hux by his side, he trod quietly down the paved avenue that led into the populated area. The buildings were built into or under the ground, so it would probably be necessary to descend into one in order to determine if they were empty. He chose the building where the control room was.

"We're sneaking into the control room," he whispered to Hux, and pointed in the direction of the underground structure.

"Oh, right, choose the structure that would be best guarded," Hux muttered.

Ren ignored him and pushed the door open. The hinges creaked a little bit as the door swung open, but Ren hoped that no one was listening for that kind of noise. Just inside the door was a stairway that led down into the control room. Gingerly, he lowered his foot onto the first step, and then did the same with his other foot. He descended slowly and silently. Behind him, Hux was struggling to do the same.

The staircase curved near the bottom, but Ren didn't need to reach the lowest step to hear the sound of voices speaking. They were arguing, one in a language that Ren didn't understand, and Ren recognized the voice as one he'd heard last time he'd been here—just weeks ago. He turned to Hux, pressed one finger to his lips to silence him, and then pointed that finger up toward the doorway at the top of the stairs.

Up at the top, he closed the door behind him and peered around for any more signs of life. He saw none and determined it was safe to talk. "They're here," he said softly.

Hux muttered, "Fine, fine, they're here."

Ren started walking in the direction of the command shuttle. "It's time to call in the reinforcements."

Hux kept up with him. "We'll need troopers to go into the buildings, kill as many people as they can, and drive the rest out into the open."

"Why not use a cannon and destroy the whole base?" Ren asked. "Even the command shuttle has laser cannons. They could destroy the base if fired from the right altitude."

"We need stormtroopers to drive them into the open. The laser cannons might not destroy everything under the level of the ground," Hux said. "I thought you'd like that. You're always ready to go into battle. You could join them."

"I don't kill people for fun," Ren snapped.

"This isn't fun," Hux said. "This is war."

Ren supposed it was. Under normal circumstances, he would have been willing to fight and kill the enemy without question; he would even have enjoyed it. But this was the Resistance, the movement led by his mother, and thinking about slaughtering these people up close made him feel uneasy.

He didn't think about his mother often, but situations like this one wouldn't let him forget. He had been on D'Qar only about a week ago and he had asked for her help. He had lied to her—and it had been hard. But the resentment and anger had built up inside him over the years—many, many years—and he had led his mother, his father, and a chunk of the Resistance's best fighters to their deaths. 

He had confirmed the deaths of Leia and Han Solo at his and Hux's hands; Chewbacca, FN-2187, and Rey at the hands of stormtroopers or First Order officers; and Poe and various starfighter pilots by the _Supremacy_ 's cannons. They had taken down the best, but there were more members of the Resistance. They wouldn't know what to do without Leia leading them, though they would find another leader, and her absence would make them weak. Her absence would allow the First Order to destroy the base on D'Qar and declare that the end of the Resistance.

Ren would bring about the end of the Resistance, the end of the thing his mother had cultivated and strengthened with her leadership, her greatest accomplishment—in her eyes, of course. But unlike killing her—or almost killing her, since Hux had interfered at the last second—he would not do it up close.

It would be so much easier to stand on the _Finalizer_ and look down as the cannons demolished the base. No physical contact, no blood, just death and destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's very time consuming.
> 
> (Uh oh. I'm devolving into puns.)
> 
> I didn't realize how many main characters I'd killed in Close Proximity...and now I'm killing more. >_>


	12. Twelve: Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're past the halfway mark! :)
> 
> What's the definition of a good farmer?

Armitage Hux awaited Ren's response. The sooner they returned to the command shuttle and called for backup, the sooner they could get out of here. Now that he had been proven wrong, the rest of this mission seemed even more unpleasant. But he was ready to kill the Resistance—what remained of them—by whatever means necessary. And part of that meant driving the current survivors out of their underground hideouts before the cannons destroyed the whole settlement. He didn't understand why Ren wasn't enthusiastic about that opportunity.

Ren heard something first. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at the semi-buried base behind them. Hux looked, too, but there was no one in sight. He kept walking, and Ren came with him, but Ren was looking around, walking sideways or backwards at times, his attention on their surroundings. Hux focused on what lay ahead of them; Ren covered all the other angles.

Moments before they reached the safety and concealment of the jungle, members of the Resistance popped up on the three other sides. Hux was going to run, though he knew he'd trip over every kriffing root if he tried, but Ren stopped, drew his lightsaber, and ignited the blade. Hux took note of his fight-or-flight instinct and realized that if Ren had chosen to fight, he would have to fight as well. He took out his blaster and braced himself to fire.

Initially there had been only five individuals facing them, and Hux knew that he and Ren could easily take on five pathetic fighters. Hell, Ren could take down eight elite guards with armor impervious to most attacks. Five of these would be nothing. But as he aimed his blaster, he noticed several new opponents popping up in between the original five. And then, behind those, several more. As he stood there, no one firing, the spaces around him and Ren filled in with more Resistance fighters. He realized that this must be all that was left. But it would take more than this to take down Hux and Ren. It was a grandiose thought, but he believed it to be true. He had won in his mind before the first shot was fired.

Then a woman at the center, a purple-haired woman wearing a dress, raised her blaster and fired at Ren.

He was ready. The Force—and his extensive training—granted him the ability to block blaster shots with his lightsaber, and he blocked her single blue blaster bolt with ease. Then another fired. Hux couldn't see who it was. "We need cover!" Ren shouted. "The jungle!"

The shout startled Hux, but what startled him even more was Ren's admission that they couldn't take on the enemies the way they were. He was right, though. Standing out here in the open could easily get them killed. The jungle would provide cover and a more interesting fight.

He darted into the thick mass of trees and vines and sought a defensible vantage point. Ren had plunged into the trees beside him, but already Hux couldn't see Ren's black uniform anywhere. He thought he caught a flicker of red lightsaber off in the trees, but he couldn't be sure. Behind him, he heard people crashing through the wild growth of vegetation and shouting to each other—they probably knew this jungle and any paths that might lead through it—and the sound of a blaster firing and a bolt striking a tree. And then there was quiet.

Hux crouched down and stayed very still. In the dim, filtering light of the jungle, the black fabric of his uniform could almost look like one of the many shadows. He could no longer see his enemies, and he couldn't hear them either, and since he wasn't being fired on, he assumed that they had lost him as well. He might be safe if he stayed here, but safe wasn't his goal.

His goal was to kill these people. He and Ren would have to kill them in order to get out of here alive. When he had wanted these people driven out of their underground buildings and taken down individually, he hadn't meant for himself to do so personally. He would have participated, certainly, but taking on the entire Resistance with only Ren at his side was not in the plans. Suddenly his certainty that the two of them could do this faded.

And where was Ren? Hux knew the sound of a lightsaber—and he knew the sound of Ren's lightsaber, specifically—and he hadn't heard it. Surely Ren hadn't fled back to the command shuttle—he wasn't a coward—but he should be fighting, not...waiting, as Hux himself was doing. Hux took a breath. He couldn't hide forever.

Looking around, he realized that he no longer knew which way was out. It didn't seem like he'd run far enough into the jungle to get lost, but there was no sign of light through the tree trunks and vines, and he couldn't see the path he'd made to get this far anymore. He stood very slowly and crept in the direction from which he thought he'd come. In the jungle, he wasn't a target standing out in the open, but he was lost in unfamiliar territory, and that put him at a disadvantage. He wasn't safe in either location.

His boots made a crunching sound on the ground as he walked, but there was no sign that anyone else was in the jungle. Perhaps they had stayed out in the open, where he ought to be. All he had to do was find his way out. Surely this was the right direction, but if it were, he ought to be—

Blaster bolts hit a tree near his head. Hux took off running and collided with the trunk of a fallen tree that suddenly appeared in front of him. He toppled over it and had the presence of mind to roll when he hit the ground. It was good cover. He ducked behind it and curled up to make himself small.

Around him, blasters fired. He heard yelps and shouts and the sound of crashing through the thick vegetation. And then he heard a comforting sound: a lightsaber, Ren's lightsaber. Now there were screams and slices and the sound of a lightsaber repelling blaster bolts. Ren had found a group of Resistance fighters and he was killing them.

Emboldened, Hux gripped his own blaster and stood slowly from his hiding place behind the fallen tree trunk. He thought he saw movement and he fired his blaster at the spot. He hit nothing except a tree. There was a moment of stillness, just long enough for Hux to relax, and then he saw movement again, a flicker of color. He fired and heard a wail and someone falling—success!—and then footsteps coming toward him. His blaster bolt had given away his position.

He ducked behind his tree trunk again, just in time, as he heard people come crashing into the area where he'd been standing. He couldn't see them from his hiding place, but he heard them breathing and whispering amongst each other. They were going to find him if he stayed where he was, but they would kill him if he got up and either fought or fled.

The familiar sound of Ren's lightsaber off in the distance attracted Hux's attention—and the attention of the fighters who were looking for him as well. They jogged off in that direction, firing their blasters. Hux peeked over the edge of the tree trunk and saw flickers of the red glow of Ren's lightsaber. He killed the group that had tried to take him down; he was good. But then the glow vanished and the jungle was still and dark once more. Hux was alone.

Then he heard Ren call out, "Hux?"

Hux staggered through the vegetation in the direction of Ren's voice and found him standing with his back pressed against a tree. Ren had taken a blaster bolt to the shoulder, but appeared otherwise unharmed. Filled with relief, Hux moved closer and whispered, "What do we do now?"

"You wanted to fight them, didn't you?" Ren returned.

Hux didn't take the bait. "What's our strategy?" he asked.

Ren swiveled his head, on alert even while they were conversing. "If we want a fair fight, we have to get out of this jungle. Our best chance would be to get back to the command shuttle, but I don't know what direction that is. If we can find the path we followed to get here, we'll be fine, but in order to find the path, we need to get out of this jungle. And I...I'm lost."

Hux looked up toward the sky, but it was lost in the thick canopy of jungle trees. On some planets he might be able to navigate using the sky, at the minimum following the sun, even if he couldn't determine the cardinal directions, but he couldn't see anything more than a tiny point of light here and there, each one vanishing as soon as he spotted it.

"If we stand still long enough, we might hear them returning to the base," Hux whispered. "We could follow the sound."

"It's a plan," Ren whispered back.

They stood still, backs against the tree, for long minutes. Hux was listening; Ren was scanning the trees as he listened. Hux stood long enough that he started getting stiff and wanted to stretch, but he kept still. And, after what seemed like ages, they were rewarded. Hux could hear the sound of several groups walking in the same direction. They had to be going home.

Ren held Hux back until the sound of footsteps and the rustling of brush had faded, and then lowered his hand. Without speaking, Ren started creeping in the direction the others had gone, and Hux followed as quietly as he could.

There was no path, only Ren's guidance. Hux thought they couldn't possibly be going in the right direction, considering how long they walked, but then he saw a flicker of light. Ren slowed and Hux almost collided with him. Buoyant with joy, he struggled to restrain himself and not go rushing out into the light. He never wanted to be in a jungle again. He longed for the clean metal of the _Supremacy_.

But as they crossed the border from jungle to the cleared area that belonged to the Resistance headquarters, a different danger arose. They no longer had to fear getting lost, but they were once more surrounded by Resistance fighters. Hux wanted to swear, but he clenched his teeth and drew his blaster. He would kill as many as he could shoot and trust Ren to do the same with his lightsaber.

In the clash that followed, Hux fired countless times and took down many of his opponents, but he was on the receiving end of a few blaster bolts as well. None did permanent damage, but they hurt. One on his left elbow reminded him of the last fight he'd been in. When his attention strayed from his targets, he glanced at Ren, who was fighting just as hard with his lightsaber, taking down one Resistance fighter after another.

But Hux realized, to his dismay, that they were going to lose. There was no way he and Ren could take down all of these fighters. And if they died, no one would know, and no one would pick up the task where they'd left off. The Resistance would be allowed to grow again. That must not happen. The Resistance must be annihilated and Hux and Ren must do it.

"Cover me!" Hux shouted, and he ran for the jungle. He could see the path they'd taken on the way from the command shuttle to the base, and he knew he'd be able to follow it. He could make the run in fifteen minutes or less, take the command shuttle up, and destroy the base with the shuttle's laser cannons. At the right altitude, it would be possible, particularly since all of them were out of the underground buildings already. And if Ren got caught in the fire, it would be an acceptable sacrifice.

Ren must have covered him—and understood his plan—because no one shot Hux in the back as he ran for the jungle path. He hurtled through the jungle and the forest, tripping only occasionally, and never doing worse than scraping his knees and palms. He didn't time himself. He just knew that when he finally arrived at the command shuttle, he wasn't too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone who's outstanding in his field. :D


	13. Thirteen: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter leads into Chapter 14, which is one of my favorites. :) Enjoy!
> 
> I need to learn some better jokes...
> 
> So what if I don't know what apocalypse means!?

In the middle of the battle, Kylo Ren covered for Hux as he ran to the jungle path. He knew where Hux was going and he knew that his own chances of survival from this point were low, but he would continue this battle—this futile battle—to give Hux the chance to reach the command shuttle and complete their mission. Presuming, that is, that Hux was able and willing to do what was necessary.

Choosing to hope that Hux would not abandon him, Ren knew that he had approximately twenty minutes to keep the Resistance fighters busy and in the correct location. Then, as soon as he saw the command shuttle, he had approximately twenty seconds to get the hell out of there.

But out here in the open, there was no way he could hold them off for twenty minutes. Without Hux to distract half of them, all of their blasters were aimed at him, and he had only one lightsaber—and the Force—with which to defend himself. He could block blaster bolts with his lightsaber or use the Force to stop them in the air before they reached him, but he was struggling to block or stop everything they sent at him. He didn't want to go back into the jungle—and that was leading them in the wrong direction anyway—so he would have to find somewhere else to hide.

He took off running toward the center of the base and trusted that he would find something to conceal him—to hide behind, or under, or inside. He'd know it when he saw it. Footsteps pounded behind him and blaster bolts flew all around him. They were lousy shots when they were running, but he was grateful. He had killed off the best of their fighters along with his mother and father.

He knew it when he saw it: a hangar, one of the few structures built aboveground. It was crowded with starfighters, crew transports, and one enormous cruiser. As soon as he saw the hangar, he knew this building needed to be destroyed, Hux or no Hux. He also knew it would make an acceptable hiding place for his twenty minutes.

He ducked into the hangar through one of the huge bay doors and immediately turned left and doubled back. He tucked himself into the small space between the bay door and the side wall of the hangar, with his back against the front wall of the building. He turned off his lightsaber, wedged himself in tightly, and waited. In this little space, he would be almost invisible if and when they turned around.

Seconds later, the crowd of Resistance fighters swarmed into the hangar. From his hiding place, he could barely see them, but he heard them fan out to search the hangar. He knew if he did look, they would be stalking around the building—blasters raised, heads swiveling, searching for him and guarding themselves at the same time.

They wouldn't see him if he remained hiding where he was. Hiding was a feasible strategy, but once they caught him where he was, there would be no escaping alive. And if he hid, he had no chance of destroying the hangar before Hux destroyed the rest of the base.

He looked to his side, the front corner of the hangar, and saw the criss-crossed metal bars that supported the wall and the ceiling of the hangar. It would be a stretch in places, but in this corner it would be possible for him to climb the wall. Up at the top, it looked like there would be just enough room to crawl across the hangar on horizontal metal beams near the pitched roof.

He peeked out from his hiding place and saw no one watching the corner. Silently, he grabbed the nearest bar with both hands and pulled himself up far enough to plant his foot on a lower bar. He climbed, bar to bar, as quickly as possible until he was far above eye level. Up this high, he wouldn't be seen unless they looked up, and they had no reason to look up. From there, he climbed at a more relaxed pace until he reached the top.

At the top, he found a comfortable place to rest. Then he looked down. Dizziness hit him for a second as he realized how high he was off the ground. He wasn't afraid of heights, but the wall hadn't looked this high from the bottom. Wondering just how tall the hangar was, he tried to determine whether his command shuttle with its thirty-meter-high wings would fit inside. It was hard to tell, given that he'd never been at the top of those wings.

Down below, the Resistance fighters were still searching for him. He wished he had a blaster; he could pick them off easily from up here. He tried to determine how much time had passed and guessed it had been about ten minutes. He still had another ten to waste before he needed to get out of here.

He crawled out onto one of the horizontal beams near the ceiling and went searching for explosives. He saw nothing obvious, but there was plenty of stored fuel. If he could climb down and find a way to light it, he could destroy this whole hangar before Hux had a chance. It would give him something to do for another ten minutes and goal-directed activity was far better than hiding near the ceiling.

He crawled across the hangar on several of the beams and climbed carefully down near the opposite side of the bay door though which he'd entered. Resistance fighters seemed to have given up looking for him; there were several clusters standing together and conferring in different places in the hangar, but the rest of them had left.

As soon as his feet touched the floor again, he was looking around for some way to light the tanks of fuel. His lightsaber would be adequate to ignite a container of fuel, but his lightsaber required him to hold it. It would be suicide and Ren wasn't ready for suicide. He might be able to make a trail of fuel along the floor and light it from somewhere farther away.

He saw something out of the corner of his eye as he was contemplating the tanks of fuel, and he was running even before he consciously realized what it was. The command shuttle had just risen above the trees. The twenty seconds Ren had given himself started now. He sprinted for the jungle and pushed himself faster than he knew he could run.

The force of the first explosion knocked him off his feet and flung him forward. He lay flat for a second, recovering, and then scrambled to his feet and started running again. He reached the edge of the jungle and turned around to watch the second explosion, which was farther away.

Smoke and flames rose from the crater where the command shuttle's laser cannon had first struck the ground. Nothing could have survived that. Ren nearly hadn't—and wouldn't have if he'd been a few seconds slower. The second strike came with a bloom of flame and pressure, and bits of dirt and ash were ejected from the area to rain down all around. The sound was a roar—a sudden boom—and then eerie silence.

Everything aboveground had been demolished. Looking out toward the crater, there was nothing above ground level except for a few shards of debris. He couldn't tell if the underground facilities had been destroyed as well, but they would be badly damaged if they still existed.

No one could have survived those explosions; he doubted there were recognizable bodies left, just piles of ash. He didn't know how many of the Resistance had remained here, but they were gone now. Ren felt a puzzling twinge of guilt for killing what may have amounted to fifty or a hundred or even hundreds of people, though once again he hadn't killed them personally. Hux had fired the cannon, but their deaths were just as much Ren's doing as Hux's.

Hux had almost gotten his wish. The members of the Resistance had been driven from their underground hideouts so that their deaths on the surface would be assured. But it hadn't been stormtroopers who did the driving out. Hux—along with Ren—had lured them out instead, and had fought them personally. Ren hoped that Hux had thought better of his idea in retrospect, since he'd acted it out up close, but he knew that Hux was too stubborn to think of it that way.

When there was no third explosion, Ren got to his feet and stared up at the command shuttle. Was Hux going to leave without him? It would be all too easy for him to decide that he was already in the air and there was no reason for him to land to pick up Ren. Or maybe he believed that he'd annihilated Ren along with the rest of the Resistance. There were plenty of reasons that Hux wouldn't come back. Ren felt empty and desperate when he imagined being stranded here.

What would he do if Hux left him here? He doubted there was any communications equipment remaining, so he wouldn't be able to contact anyone and ask to be rescued. Their starships and shuttles and starfighters and that enormous cruiser had all been destroyed by the command shuttle's laser cannons, so he wouldn't be able to fly himself off the planet. Presumably he'd find something to eat in the jungle, water to drink in a river or lake, and he'd build himself a shelter out of something. That was no way to live.

He stood in the center of the open area, where he could easily be seen if Hux was looking, and waited. The command shuttle was making some strange movements in the air, as if someone incompetent were flying it. That could be another reason that Hux wouldn't come back for him; he couldn't figure out how to land the shuttle. Ren almost laughed at that thought. Almost. The fear of being left behind gripped him too tightly for laughter.

At last, after Ren's long moments of doubt and anxiety—his heart seemed to be beating faster with fear now than it had when he was fleeing the explosions—the command shuttle landed. It would have landed on top of Ren if he hadn't run out of the way. He would have to mock Hux for his terrible piloting, but only _after_ he was safely in the shuttle. 

Hux awaited him at the top of the loading ramp. His face was bright pink, his hair a sweaty mess, and his usually pristine uniform rumpled and torn at the knees and on one arm. It seemed he hadn't had an easy journey back to the command shuttle. Ren imagined his frantic, desperate race along that narrow path, the many falls that had ripped the knees of his uniform breeches, the branches whipping his arms and tearing at his uniform jacket. They were both lucky that Hux was a runner.

"I don't know the controls well enough to get myself back to the _Supremacy_ ," Hux mumbled, as if he needed an excuse for coming back to get Ren, rather than an excuse for leaving him stranded there. That was a twisted point of view, but that was Hux. He would see coming back to get Ren as weakness and Hux hated showing weakness. That was obvious.

Ren wanted to say thank you, but he couldn't come up with the words. It should have been simple, two words, but expressing gratitude had never been easy for him. It could even be one word if he wanted, but even saying that one word seemed insurmountable. He retracted the loading ramp and tried to think of some way to say it without saying it. Finally, he said, "I'll...I'll get us safely home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not the end of the world! :D


	14. Fourteen: Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters. As a writer, I have an instinct that when things are good, I need to make them bad, and when they're already bad, I need to make them worse. :P Does anybody else get that way?
> 
> Today you get a break from awful puns.
> 
> One woman said to another: my dog can jump higher than your house. How can this be true?

Armitage Hux looked on as Ren piloted the command shuttle off the ground. Ren was, Hux had to admit, a much better pilot than he was, but he could have gotten the shuttle back to the _Supremacy_ without assistance. Leaving Ren behind would have been as good as killing him—and it would have been easier—so why had he gone back? The nearest he could guess, it was repayment for protecting him in the jungle and covering for him as he ran for the command shuttle.

"Fire the cannons again," Ren said, gazing down at the craters as the shuttle rose. "Make sure we got everything."

Hux thought he should have been the one to give that order, but he'd been momentarily distracted by his own thoughts. He fired the laser cannons several more times, each time making sure that anything that looked like a chunk of a building or ship—and anything that looked like an underground structure—was demolished.

If he'd had his way, and they hadn't been caught before their scouting party mission was complete, he would be up in the _Supremacy_ now, standing on the bridge and giving orders to fire the laser cannons. He would be dignified, in control, superior. His stormtroopers would have done the work he'd just completed earlier: the running, the fighting, the firing of blasters. He would not be standing here in the cockpit of the command shuttle with his sweaty hair and his scraped palms and his breeches torn at the knees.

As much as he would like to be giving orders from the bridge, to be in command but detached from actual work, he found a strange exhilaration in doing the work—being personally responsible for it—and being done. As he fired the laser cannons and made sure that every inch of the Resistance base was demolished, he felt pride and vicious glee. The Resistance was dead, and Hux had killed it.

"I did it," Hux said. He glanced at Ren. "We did it. We killed the Resistance." Amazement mixed with jubilation and he found himself smiling.

Ren, who did not make a practice of smiling, smiled right back. He was deftly piloting the shuttle away from the planet and making preparations for the jump to hyperspace. "How does it feel to do something up close and personal for once?" he asked.

"I was up close and personal when we killed Snoke," Hux corrected.

"Hardly," Ren said. "You stood back while I did the fighting."

"I did some fighting. You may have been too preoccupied with your feelings to notice," Hux said.

"How do we celebrate?" Ren asked, as if he hadn't heard Hux's accusation.

Hux was grateful that he'd changed the subject. He didn't want to argue, but he had trouble resisting when the opportunity presented itself. "I don't suppose we have anything to eat or drink on this shuttle."

"Emergency rations," offered Ren.

"I will _not_ celebrate with emergency rations," Hux said. But as he considered how else they might celebrate, a memory blindsided him. He had been celebrating the successful trial run of Starkiller Base with Ren, and instead of eating the available food—of which there had been plenty—they had ducked into a wiring closet and had sex instead. Almost had sex. That moment—that single moment—was the reason he was here now.

The command shuttle made the jump to hyperspace.

Hux turned to Ren, looked him in the eyes, and wondered if he was having the same memories. Ren's face was impassive, but his brown eyes were alive. Hux wanted him to remember. He took a step forward, closed the gap between the two of them. Ren's face didn't change and Hux felt anger stirring inside of him.

He needed Ren to remember. It was a pivotal moment in their relationship and in their lives. It had changed everything in Hux's world and he knew that it had changed everything in Ren's as well. Little more than a week ago, they had controlled the First Order under the supervision of Supreme Leader Snoke, and now they ruled without him. They were the ultimate authority, all because of a few moments in a wiring closet. If Ren wasn't remembering, he would be made to.

Hux drew his blaster and aimed it at Ren. "Do you remember?" he asked.

"Put that away." Ren scowled. "Of course I remember. We really fucked up that celebration."

"Do you regret it?" Hux asked. He kept his blaster poised.

"No." Ren reached out and grabbed the blaster out of Hux's hand. "Do you?"

Hux considered that. He'd wanted power. All his life he'd wanted more power than he had; all of his adult life, he'd wanted the title of Grand Marshal. Now he had both, though he was sharing the highest position in the First Order with someone whom he intended to kill. But he had accomplished more in the time since Snoke's death than he had in the years before it. And soon, with Ren dead, he would be Supreme Leader.

Did he regret it? Yes and no. He had what he'd always wanted, but his means of getting there had been questionable. That mattered little, however. The ends justified the means. "No," he said. "Now give me my blaster back."

Ren handed back the blaster. "You can have a big celebration when we get back," he said.

" _I_ can have a big celebration?" Hux asked, fingering the smooth plasteel. "Why just me? What about you?"

"You like big, fancy gatherings of officers," Ren said. "I don't."

Hux rather liked the idea of a big celebration. He deserved one; the First Order deserved one. This was a momentous occasion, and a good one. The First Order had lost its Supreme Leader, though this would have little effect on the personal lives of any but the highest ranking officers; this major accomplishment by its new leaders would boost morale. It was a political decision.

"You wouldn't know how to behave at a fancy gathering of officers," Hux said, absently caressing the blaster.

"You're disinviting me before you invite me in the first place," Ren said. "Are you going to force me to stay in my quarters?" He didn't look upset. Hux would have to try harder.

"No, I'll put you to use..." Hux said. He paused for effect. "In the kitchen. Washing dishes. Where you belong."

Ren seized the blaster from Hux's hands and hit him across the face with it. Hard. For a full second, Hux stood stunned. Then he tasted blood and brought his hand to his face. His fingers came away dripping bright red blood. His nose was bleeding, and so was his lip, and he knew he was going to have bruises from the hard plasteel edges of the blaster.

"Fuck you!" he shouted. But he was wary, because Ren still held the blaster and he could do a lot more damage with it if he wanted to.

"I see what you do," Ren said through clenched teeth. "Don't think I'm oblivious. The next time you try to make me angry, I will get angry, and you will pay for toying with me." He gestured with his hand and used the Force to toss Hux against the far wall of the cockpit.

Hux's back slammed against the wall and he slid down until he was sitting on the floor. Blood still flowed down his face and dripped off his chin. He glared up at Ren, who stood with his hands in fists that trembled with the force of his emotions. Hux was reminded again of Ren's strength and why he hadn't used to play with his feelings.

He tipped his head forward and pinched his nose to stop the bleeding. It wasn't broken or excruciatingly painful, but it was sore. He had no way to stop his lip from bleeding without going to the medpac or waiting it out, and he wasn't quite ready to stand up yet. He wanted to catch his breath and let Ren cool down. If he got up too readily, he might end up tossed right back at the wall.

After a few minutes, Ren turned away and left the cockpit. Hux hastily scrambled to his feet and braced one hand against the wall for support. He was still standing there, wondering where to go, when Ren returned with the medpac. He thrust it at Hux, waited for him to take it, and then dropped into the pilot's seat.

Hux looked for a place to sit. His options were the floor again or the copilot's seat; he chose the former. He lowered himself gently to the floor, opened the medpac one-handed, and dug out the items he would need. But he couldn't open any of the bottles or packages one-handed and he wasn't ready to release pressure on his nose. Thwarted, he sat and waited.

A minute or so passed, and then Ren got up and came over to kneel in front of Hux. He tore open a packet of wipes and carefully cleaned the blood off Hux's face. Several wipes came away bloody before Ren seemed satisfied that Hux's face was clean. He dabbed antiseptic onto the split in Hux's lip and didn't react when Hux flinched at the sting. Then he dug out an instant cold pack, activated it, and laid it across Hux's nose. Without speaking, he returned to the pilot's seat.

Hux waited ten minutes before he released pressure on his nose. He gingerly withdrew his hand and waited, but no more blood trickled from his nostril. His lip seemed to have stopped bleeding as well. Cautiously, he used another wipe to clean off his hands, and then put all of the items back into the medpac and closed the box. 

He put away the medpac and returned to sit in the copilot's seat.

There was something about these moments of tenderness that made Hux want more physical contact. After he had cleaned Ren up following the duel with Skywalker, the kiss had seemed natural, though he hadn't been able to follow through. When he was aware at every moment that Ren's life was limited and Hux would be the one to define its final limit, it was hard to kiss him—to initiate that kiss—without feeling that sense of unease. If Ren took charge, things might be different, but Ren would never do that.

If he would...but no, this was not the time for imagining. He would just have to accept things as they were. When Ren was gone, he would find someone else who was willing to initiate sex. When Ren was gone.... The thought gave Hux a hollow feeling in his stomach. Emotions! They were useless things.

He gazed at Ren anyway, looking at his tousled dark hair and sharp brown eyes. He was still angry, despite the tenderness, and for the first time Hux really felt the consequences of his taunting. He didn't feel guilty, just...sore, but he knew that he could no longer get away with taunting Ren the way he'd made a habit of doing in the past week. He almost...respected Ren. _Almost_.

"I'll never pee on myself," Ren blurted suddenly.

"What?" Hux asked, roused from his introspection. Had he missed something?

"You may think it's...you may like the idea...but I'm not going to do it for you," Ren said.

Baffled, Hux tried to piece together some sense, but he had no idea what Ren could be talking—oh. Horror poured through him like ice water. His fantasy. "You read my mind. You stole my personal thoughts without my permission," he accused.

"I didn't mean to," Ren said. "I wish I hadn't. That's disgusting."

Righteous anger filled Hux. Ren knew that he didn't like intrusions into his mind and he particularly didn't like those intrusions being used against him. He hadn't thought of the fantasy recently. He'd done his best to shut it out of his head, remove it from his memory. But to apologize or reassure Ren would be weak. Hux was not a weak man and he would prove it. "You'd better watch yourself, Ren. I can make every bit of that come true and you know it."

Ren set his jaw and turned away silently.

The silence lasted all the way back to the _Supremacy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A house can't jump. >_>


	15. Fifteen: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wore my General Hux t-shirt to the art fair in the park and got a comment, "That's a bold statement." I also got a disapproving look. But hey...he's my favorite character. *shrug*
> 
> This isn't exactly a joke:  
> I have two coins that equal thirty cents. One of them is not a nickel. How is this possible?
> 
> Leave your guess in the comments. I'll post the answer with chapter sixteen. :)

If there had been any doubt in Kylo Ren's mind that Hux must die—and there had been—it had been wiped away when Hux had threatened him. Upon their return, he had shut himself into his quarters, climbed into bed, and buried himself in blankets. He had made his decision and Hux's threat had reaffirmed it. He knew what he had to do. So why was he hesitating?

He thrashed, tangling the blankets around his body. He had killed so many people now. It seemed his whole life was about killing this person and that: Supreme Leader Snoke, his mother, his father, his uncle. He had annihilated the Resistance base and killed perhaps hundreds there. He was good at killing people who needed to be killed. And it was getting easier. He was becoming numbed to taking lives.

Was that a good thing or a bad thing? He didn't know anymore.

Why was he so resistant to the idea of killing Hux? He thought back on their relationship. It had always been antagonistic, though there had been a few good moments. They had shared experiences and goals, victories and losses. It was what they had shared that tied them together. Memories of the things they had shared were keeping Hux alive.

But sentiment could not get in the way of doing what was right, and killing Hux was right. Ren couldn't trust Hux. Hux would continue to betray him. And he mustn't forget that Hux had plans to kill him as well. He must focus on facts and necessities and shut out the memories and the feelings. He would kill Hux. He just needed a plan.

He knew that he wouldn't be able to sneak into Hux's quarters and murder him in his sleep. He would have to use the Force. It would be fitting, given that Hux feared the Force and all Force users, for him to die that way. Ren just needed a time and place. He could make the death public, an execution to prove that no one betrayed Supreme Leader Ren and survived. Or he could make it private, somewhere that no one would see and no one would know until Ren revealed it.

He didn't have to make up his mind immediately. He had plenty of time.

Ren dozed, fully dressed and tied up tightly in the sheet and blankets. He awakened early in the morning, an hour earlier than usual, and carefully extracted himself from the bedclothes. After changing his clothes, he headed for the gym for his morning workout.

The gym was empty, as it always was at this time of morning, and Ren had his choice of equipment. He started his usual routine, mixing cardio with strength training, and let the physical exertion take his mind off everything else. He could feel yesterday's sprint in his calves and thighs, but that kind of pain and soreness was familiar to him; it was almost comforting. He finished his workout and returned to his quarters.

After a half-hour to shower and dress in a uniform a laundry droid ironed for him, he made his way to the officers' lounge for breakfast. He usually came for breakfast before the kitchen was open, and today he was an hour earlier than usual, so he entered the kitchen and went looking for something to eat. Often there were leftovers from whatever had been served for dinner the night before, but this morning he had no such luck. He would have to cook something for himself if he wanted more than dry cereal.

Grateful that it was early and he was alone—Ren wouldn't want the officers beneath him to catch him cooking for himself in the kitchen—he dug through the refrigerator for some eggs, and went on a hunt for a frying pan. He had the pan on the stove and was cracking the eggs when he heard something and whipped around. Hux stood in the doorway.

Ren chewed on his lip. They hadn't spoken since Hux's threat in the command shuttle yesterday. Now he didn't know what to say. What did one say to somebody one intended to murder shortly? "Do you want an egg?" he asked.

Hux hesitated. Perhaps he was feeling guilty, or perhaps just awkward because he was dealing with his own thoughts about what had happened and what his plans for killing Ren were. "Fried?"

Ren nodded.

"Please."

Ren cracked another egg into the frying pan.

"I didn't know you cooked," Hux said.

Ren wasn't sure frying eggs counted as cooking. He supposed that it was making food using a kitchen implement instead of having it prepared and served for him. He had these functional skills that everyone should have—Supreme Leader, First Order stormtrooper, officer, or otherwise. On the _Supremacy_ , no one but the cooks needed these skills.

He watched the eggs. It would be entertaining to test Hux's abilities. "I'll fry some vegetables with the eggs," Ren said. "Go get me some vegetables out of the refrigerator. It's the big one on the right." He'd give Hux a clue. Letting him go through all the refrigerators would be a waste of time.

Hux crossed the room to the refrigerators and opened the big one, where all of the fresh produce was stored. Somewhere on board the _Supremacy_ , there was a hydroponics area where all sorts of fresh fruits and vegetables were grown, but Ren had never seen it. He watched askance as Hux stared at the choices stored in the refrigerator.

"Just pick something that looks good," Ren said. He enjoyed seeing Hux out of his element. Hux was good at so many different things. Recently, Ren had seen him be bad at working out in the gym, and now he was failing miserably at cooking. "Something green."

Hux brought him some sweet green peppers. "They're green."

"Now slice them into strips," Ren said. He pretended to pay close attention to the eggs. Eggs required minimal observation. They had to be flipped at the proper time, and Ren liked to stab the yolk so that the liquid ran out and cooked some. He pointed at the far end of the counter. "Cutting board, knife."

Hux laid the peppers on the cutting board and picked up a knife. He stabbed a pepper and seemed surprised at how easily the knife penetrated the flesh. He nearly destroyed the pepper—mangling it in an effort to cut out the stem. Ren had looked back at the eggs for a second when Hux cried, "Ow!"

Before he looked, Ren was both amused and concerned. Watching Hux fail at something was amusing, but he didn't want to have to wash blood off the pepper slices. He turned and saw Hux sucking on one finger and blood on the cutting board and knife. He snatched Hux's left hand away from his mouth and looked at his index finger. "You'll be fine," he said. "Go get a bandage from the medpac over there."

While Ren poked the yolks of the eggs and flipped them, Hux fetched an adhesive bandage and wrapped it around his fingertip. "How am I going to explain _this_ to the officers and stormtroopers?" he asked, holding up his finger.

"They won't notice," Ren said. "You could put your gloves on again." Hux only wore his gloves when he was on-duty on board the _Supremacy_. Since he was gloveless now, Ren assumed he was off-duty. Ren wore his gloves when he remembered, which meant sporadically.

Hux looked at his hands, as if he had just discovered he wasn't wearing gloves. "I could." He looked sulkily down at the peppers.

"They're not going to cut themselves," Ren said. Then something occurred to him and he smiled. "Wash off the cutting board and knife first."

Hux looked even more displeased at this task, but he obeyed and carried the cutting board and knife over to the sink. He searched for soap. He searched for a scouring pad. He combined the two with water and started washing the cutting board.

Ren silently crossed the kitchen and stopped directly behind Hux to say, "Look, it's Grand Marshal Hux. In the kitchen. Washing dishes. Where he belongs."

Hux whirled around and Ren caught his fist before it could strike. "Fuck you!" Hux snapped and yanked his hand free. Then he seemed to notice the knife lying half-covered in soap suds in the sink. After half a second's hesitation, he grabbed the knife and brandished it at Ren. "Don't fuck with me. Don't even think about it." His chin was up, lips set, blue-green eyes blazing.

Ren looked at Hux, looked at the knife, and wondered if this was his moment. Any action he took at this moment could be classified as self-defense. He could wrench the knife out of Hux's hand and stab him through the throat, but that would be a lot of blood. He could use the Force to strangle him. But then he came up with a better idea.

Ren turned his back on Hux and returned to the stove where the eggs were still cooking. "How well done do you like your eggs?" he asked, as if nothing had happened. It was the perfect insult; he deemed Hux such a non-threat that he was willing to turn his back on him when he was holding a knife. After a few moments, he heard the knife clatter into the metal sink.

"It doesn't matter," Hux said, sounding defeated.

Pepper slices forgotten, Ren served his eggs and Hux's egg on two plates and handed a plate to Hux. He dug around in a drawer until he came up with two forks and handed over one of those, too. Then he carried his plate out of the kitchen and into the officers' lounge dining area. Usually he would have washed the dishes, but he had no intention of going near them in Hux's presence. The cooks would clean up after him when they came in for the morning.

He sat down at a table for two and waited while Hux looked around at all of the other possible seating locations. He cut into one fried egg with his fork. The eggs were overdone, but he'd been distracted. He glanced up when Hux sat down across from him, but made no comment.

"Are you coming with me?" Hux asked.

"Where?" Ren asked, though he had a feeling he knew.

"To find the Force-sensitive youth," Hux said.

"Find?" Ren asked. "Or kill?" He intended to kill these children if he couldn't turn them to the darkness, but he would wait until he'd determined which side they'd choose before he killed them.

"Both," Hux said. "Are you coming?"

"Of course," Ren said.

Hux took a bite of egg. For a moment, Ren was certain that Hux was going to complain about the egg—it would be just like Hux to find fault—but Hux swallowed and took another bite without comment.

Ren studied Hux's face. The split in his lip had healed, with or without some help in medbay. The different features of the blaster pistol had left little bruises in several places on the left side of his face, but they weren't dark or large enough to draw extra attention or comment. "Your face doesn't look bad," he said.

"No thanks to you," Hux said evenly.

Ren wanted to tell him that he'd deserved it, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He ensured that by taking a too-large bite of egg and focusing on chewing.

This was another shared experience—cooking together and eating together—that could go on the list of reasons that Ren couldn't kill Hux, but even in such a simple interaction, something had gone wrong. This time it had been his fault for starting the disagreement, but he hadn't expected Hux to take it so seriously, take it so far. He almost couldn't believe he was sitting here eating breakfast with a man he planned to kill soon, as soon as possible, perhaps even today.

Booted footsteps approached the door to the officers' lounge and two officers barged in at high speed. One was panting, the other only slightly breathless. "Grand Marshal Hux, Supreme Leader Ren!" the breathless officer said. He cringed, but continued. "We've received news. Bad news."


	16. Sixteen: Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I'd mention: you will be rewarded for your patience in chapter eighteen. After this chapter, you can probably guess how. :P
> 
> About that joke...  
> Q: I have two coins that equal thirty cents. One of them is not a nickel. How is this possible?  
> A: The other one is.
> 
> That's kind of bad. >_>

Armitage Hux was not ready for bad news at this hour of the morning. On a normal day, he would still be asleep at this time, but he'd gone to bed early and he hadn't slept well. The conflict with Ren had been eating at him. He wasn't sure how he ended up eating breakfast with a man he intended to kill, but Ren would be less likely to suspect him this way. Unless Ren already suspected him, having read his desires in his mind along with that horrible fantasy.

Hux couldn't comprehend what had happened in the kitchen. He could have killed Ren—he _should_ have killed Ren. It was the perfect opportunity. He had been insulted verbally—the jab about the dishes, though Hux did acknowledge that Ren had only returned something he himself had already said—and insulted nonverbally when Ren had turned away from the knife. Ren could have killed him then, easily, and he hadn't. Hux could have killed him then, with some effort, and he hadn't. Why? Maybe because he had other plans for Ren's death. Yes, it must be that.

The two officers stood before him and waited.

"Report," Hux said.

The officers were looking at Ren, as though awaiting _his_ punishment, but Ren seemed content to let Hux handle it. He sat back and waited, his behavior almost deferent. Hux was suspicious; he would have expected Ren to try to dominate the interaction, but Ren was doing the opposite.

"Go on," Hux prompted, an edge to his voice. They should respect him, look at him when he spoke, not at Ren. They needn't fear for their lives from him, as they apparently feared Ren, but they did need to respect him. If they didn't, they could be assured that they would face the consequences later.

"We received word that there are Resistance fighters...um...running around Starkiller Base," the officer said. He spoke faster as he neared the end, as if he desperately wanted the words out of his mouth.

Ren shot to his feet and Hux followed half a second slower. "How many Resistance fighters?" Hux demanded.

"A...a handful," the officer said very quietly. He looked young and pale and terrified.

A handful was not an adequate measurement. Hux rubbed his face with his hands. He knew he would be furious if he were not exhausted. He had gotten almost no sleep. Of course this would come up this morning. Instead of furious, at the moment he felt cranky.

"The Resistance is _dead_ ," Ren said.

"Not all of them, it seems," Hux said. " _If_ the reports are correct." He scowled at the possibility that they could be bothering him with incorrect information and watched the young officer cringe. But the reports were probably true, which was even worse than their being incorrect. He asked the officer, "How many is a handful? I need numbers."

"Reports say there's a band," the officer said. He paled further. "Three to...six?"

"Don't guess," Hux snapped.

"Yes, sir." The officer looked at his boots, and then looked up at Hux with obvious effort.

"Why has no one caught them already?" Hux asked. He saw Ren sit down again, apparently content to watch from here. Hux had this under control.

"I don't know, sir." The officer's gaze was sliding back to his boots, but he forced his chin up once more.

"How many staff members, officers, and stormtroopers are currently posted on Starkiller Base?" Hux asked smoothly.

The officer's eyes widened and he looked back at his boots. His attention seemed riveted there. "I don't have the current crew complement memorized, sir."

The officer was an idiot. Hux wished he could punish for idiocy. "The point is," he said, "there are enough of our people on that planet to capture a—a handful of Resistance fighters. I demand an explanation."

The other officer, who had thus far been silent, spoke up. "Incompetence," he said. "That's your explanation...sir!"

Ren made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Hux glared at him—he wasn't helping—and Ren fell silent again.

"I know Starkiller Base better than most," Hux said. It was true. He even knew the location of a critical wiring closet. "If everyone else is so incompetent that no one can track down these Resistance fighters, then I'll do it myself." He waved his hand at the two officers. "You're dismissed." They scuttled off immediately.

After the two of them had exited the officers' lounge, Hux sat down at the table and poked at the cold fried egg with his fork. He was hungry, but the egg was less than appetizing cold. It hadn't been appetizing warm either; it was overdone, though that was partially his fault for distracting Ren from the eggs. He looked from the egg to Ren. "You're coming with me," he said.

"I wouldn't miss it," Ren said. His face was almost pleasant. Hux hoped he wasn't looking forward to this mission. Hux himself was dreading it and if he were miserable, Ren would have to be miserable as well.

Hux checked the time. At some point, the cooks would come in and make breakfast for everyone. He didn't want to say what he was thinking—it would reveal too much—but the words spilled from his lips. "I haven't been there since...." He hadn't been back to Starkiller Base since his ignominious flight after the incident in the wiring closet. Incident. The word made it sound so minor. It had been life-changing.

"I haven't been back either," Ren admitted.

Hux checked the time again. "We leave after breakfast," he said. "That gives us an hour to prepare."

"And eat some real food that tastes good," Ren said. Hux was grateful that he had a sense of humor about it. At some points in his life, Ren would have taken any indication that his food was less than desirable as an insult and started a fight over it. Ren stood. "I'll meet you at the command shuttle in an hour." He took Hux's plate and carried the two dirty plates back to the kitchen. He hadn't finished his eggs either.

Hux returned to his quarters to change into a freshly ironed uniform, collect his thoughts, and waste time while he waited for breakfast to be served. They should be leaving now, but they both needed to eat and prepare before they headed off to Starkiller Base.

He looked in the mirror in the refresher and willed the little bruises away; they were becoming more noticeable as time passed. His fingertips brushed the blaster holstered at his side. He combed his hair again, slicked the red strands back, and looked down at the bandage around his fingertip. Embarrassed—adhesive bandages were things a child would wear—he pulled the bandage off and threw it away.

He would have to postpone his plans to kill Ren. He needed a partner for the hunt on Starkiller Base. And he had been developing some ideas about killing Ren on their journey to find and kill the Force-sensitive youth. If he were lucky, he could rid the galaxy of all of the powerful Force users and youth in one act. He was counting on it.

After making sure that everything was tidy for his time away, Hux returned to the officers' lounge for breakfast. He found a delicious meal and plenty of alternatives in case he didn't like one option. He would never try to cook for himself again. It wasn't a skill he'd ever need to know, and he'd felt like a failure when he'd tried unsuccessfully to do something as insignificant as slicing some peppers.

He ate alone in a corner of the dining area and watched the men and women around him. He wondered where Phasma was. After their return from D'Qar, he'd intended to catch up with her and continue their training, but he'd expected to have more time between missions. When he returned from Starkiller Base, he'd find her before he and Ren journeyed off to find those youths.

No one bothered him as he ate. From the relaxed behavior of all of those around him, he assumed that no one else had been notified about the breach of security on Starkiller Base. That was a good thing. For once, he didn't want a team of stormtroopers marching behind him. He knew there would be sneaking involved and sneaking was a challenge for a large group of armor-clad stormtroopers. When he got to Starkiller Base, he would have to turn down an escort there as well.

As he ate, he saw Ren pop in and then out with several meat-filled pastries in his hand. He knew that Ren didn't care to fraternize with the other officers—indeed Ren seemed to avoid social interactions whenever it was possible—but he'd thought that Ren would at least sit down.

Five minutes before the one-hour mark, Hux stood at the foot of the command shuttle and waited for Ren to arrive. He wanted to go back to bed and wake up to the knowledge that this was all a bad dream. How far back would he go with the dream? The mission to D'Qar? Defeating Luke Skywalker? Killing Supreme Leader Snoke? Agreeing to run off with Ren? Setting foot into that kriffing wiring closet for the first time? His recent life had been filled with things that he could erase and change the course of his life.

But would he erase them? Usually decisive, Hux didn't know.

Exactly on time, Ren entered the hangar and crossed to where Hux stood beneath the command shuttle. They boarded together and Hux settled into the copilot's seat while Ren prepared the shuttle for launch. Hux watched, wondering if he'd be able to remember those procedures for when he needed them. When he'd piloted the shuttle on D'Qar, he'd done almost none of those things, and he'd somehow gotten the shuttle off the ground.

Ren directed the command shuttle out of the hangar and programmed in their course through hyperspace. Hux sat back, content to watch in silence for the time being.

After a short period of silence, during which Ren focused on the shuttle, he asked, "What are our plans?"

Hux hadn't thought them through in detail yet, a fact that he didn't want to share with Ren. Hux _always_ had a plan. "Any plans we make now will have to be reevaluated when we arrive and get more details. We'll start by questioning anyone who's seen them, check up on evidence of their presence and anything they might have done, and then hunt them down. I know Starkiller Base."

"Just not well enough not to walk into a wiring closet expecting a room," Ren said. It didn't sound like a taunt. It sounded like good-natured ribbing. Hux hadn't known Ren was capable of that.

"I was neither electrician nor network technician," Hux said. He paused to think about the layout of the military installation on the planet. He'd thought he knew the whole thing, but he'd neglected to learn areas that were irrelevant to him. "We need to visit the assembly room while we're there. I want to see it without Snoke."

"It's hard for me to believe that we'll never see him again," Ren murmured.

Hux nodded slowly. "Are we better off like this, the way we are now, than we were before?" It was a question that he had asked before, but he hadn't really been able to satisfy himself with an answer. He might think he'd decided, but later on he'd go back and wonder.

"Yes," Ren said without hesitation. He studied Hux. "Don't you think so?"

"I'm not so sure."

Silence settled upon them once more. Hux tried to turn his thoughts toward the future and away from the past, but realized it would be more practical to think about the present. He was en route to Starkiller Base where a very specific task was laid out before him. As soon as he had taken care of this disruption in his plans, he could return to what he really wanted to do.

The silence lasted the rest of the journey. The shuttle returned to regular space close to the planet that was Starkiller Base, and Ren guided it into one of the hangars. Even the hangar was familiar. Before he'd even left the shuttle, Hux was feeling like he'd come home. It was a sad reminder that he had no home.


	17. Seventeen: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dislike creating names for expendable original characters, but I can't really post about CC and DD and EE. :P Is that something other writers do, too?

Kylo Ren lowered the command shuttle's loading ramp and disembarked with Hux at his side. He remembered Starkiller Base clearly, though he'd spent less time here than Hux had, and he didn't know the place as well. Somehow he'd expected everything to look different upon his return, but he didn't notice any changes. It really hadn't been that long—only a few weeks, but it felt like years.

Regardless of what he'd told Hux earlier, he hadn't been looking forward to the return to Starkiller Base. He enjoyed a good hunt, and he would get that here, but seeing the military base again brought back memories he'd rather not revisit, especially considering his current feelings toward Hux.

The moment they were out of the shuttle, a small group of officers and technicians approached, with a group of armored and helmeted stormtroopers just behind them. Ren wanted to get down to the hunt, but he knew there were other things to attend to before they could start tracking. And listening to the people who had seen them was one of those things.

Ren recognized a few of them, but not by name. Hux, however, seemed to know the name of each individual, as he called on them in turn.

"We ran into them in the corridor outside of the hangar—not this hangar," said the man addressed as Tandaro. "It was five or six hours ago. As soon as we saw them take off running, I chased them, and Lieutenant Jois went into the hangar to look for their ship."

"How many were there?" Hux asked. He had scowled at the mention of five or six hours, but said nothing about it—yet. Even if he said nothing to this little gathering, Ren knew he'd hear about it later, though they had personally occupied more than one of those hours.

Tandaro hesitated. "I think I saw four...or five."

Hux pressed his lips together and Ren waited for him to tell Tandaro not to guess. Hux refrained, collected himself, and when he spoke it was in a remarkably neutral tone. "Did you find the ship?" he asked the man who must be Jois.

"I found it and we made sure it would never fly again," Jois said.

"Destroy it. And lock down all hangars so they can't escape," Hux said. He addressed the group again. "Who saw them next?"

A woman spoke up. "We tracked them on security cameras for almost an hour before we lost them."

"Lost them? Where?" Hux asked. "And when?" Ren wondered if he was thinking about the incompetence comment. He could see the simmering anger building under the dispassionate Grand Marshal facade.

"We last saw them about four hours ago," she said. "They wandered for about an hour, casing out the base, and then got smart. They shot out surveillance cameras and engaged in repeated backtracking so that we couldn't track them anymore. And then they disappeared. If we go look at the security camera footage, I can show you exactly where."

Hux nodded curtly. Ren could sense his simmering anger rising, but Hux was concealing it well for the moment. Ren could see it in his eyes and his clenched jaw. "And no one has seen them since?" Hux asked.

"No, sir," Tandaro said.

Hux turned back to the woman. "Show us the camera footage, Lieutenant Dierdre."

The woman—Dierdre, apparently—escorted the two of them through the corridors of Starkiller Base in the direction of one of the security rooms, and Hux politely allowed this instead of taking advantage of his height and striding ahead of her. The others remained behind, and Ren saw their relief on their faces and in their postures. They had gotten off easy. Under other circumstances, their incompetence would have earned them punishment, but Hux was focused.

Ren was glad that Hux was taking the lead on this investigation part. He might be Supreme Leader, but he preferred to delegate when it came to tasks such as these. He almost regretted splitting duties with Hux. He found so many of them boring—even those that Hux had taken unfairly would have been boring—whereas Hux thrived in his new role as Grand Marshal.

In the security room, Dierdre pulled up footage from one of the other hangars. She, Hux, and Ren stood at the monitor and watched a group of _five_ Resistance fighters skulk around the hangar. They didn't do anything; they just looked. Then, as they were walking out of view, Dierdre switched cameras to follow the group down a long corridor. She changed playback to fast forward so that they could watch the entire sequence without wasting hours.

The cameras had tracked the group through a large portion of the base, but had not caught them sabotaging anything. Ren couldn't figure out why they were here. Were they searching for something? That's what it seemed, since they had neither stolen nor destroyed anything in the long hours since they'd arrived.

After an hour had elapsed, the group returned to a corridor where they'd already been. One of them raised a blaster and fired at the surveillance camera. The screen went dark. Here, Dierdre slowed the playback to real time and pointed at the output of the nearest camera, where the group appeared again. "Watch this," she said. "They come over here and shoot out this camera. You expect them to keep going down that corridor, right? But they backtrack, go back the way they came, and end up over here—" she pointed at another monitor "—going the opposite direction from where they shot out the first camera. And watch this: they do it again, and then they appear back here, where they stopped before."

Hux was rubbing his forehead as he watched.

"They did this repeatedly in several different areas. We tried to track them anyway," Dierdre continued, "and we did until they got to this junction. Then they disappeared. Right here. They're gone. We sent a security team down to that stretch of corridor, that junction, to see if they were hiding by standing still, but the corridor was empty."

On the monitors, the band shot out another camera, and the monitor went black, but none of the other cameras picked them up. Dierdre showed them the footage of all nearby cameras at that time, but there was no group. Somewhere around that corner, they had disappeared.

Hux was frowning at the monitor. "What are they doing now?" he asked.

"Nothing," Dierdre said, "as far as we can tell. No one has seen them since. We looked everywhere."

"They're searching for something," Hux said. "But what? Do we have any more details on who they are and where they came from?"

"None, sir," Dierdre said.

Hux turned in a circle, looking at all of the monitors that displayed current views of most corridors and rooms in the entire base. Then he focused on one of the security staff members whose job it was to watch over this room. "Have you seen them anywhere since then?" he asked.

"No, sir. There's been a glimpse of motion here or there, but nothing solid."

Hux then turned to Ren and said, "It's time to start the hunt."

"We begin at the junction where they vanished," Ren said and strode out of the room.

They took a lift down one level to where the mysterious junction was. Ren wanted to get a good look at it before they did anything else. There might be a reasonable explanation for their disappearance and a clue about where they had gone afterward.

"How are they not dead?" he asked. That was what had been bothering him. Vanishing Resistance fighters were far less mysterious than Resistance fighters coming back from the dead and flying a ship that had been destroyed with the entire Resistance headquarters on D'Qar.

"They must have left before we got there," Hux said.

"Then do they know?" Ren asked. It was possible that this little group didn't know that their home base had been destroyed and their comrades slaughtered. He didn't care either way except in what way the news might affect these survivors' behavior and goals.

"If they do know, we must be especially careful that they not escape," Hux said. "We don't want them running off to find allies in the Outer Rim."

Ren hoped they hadn't escaped already. An unscheduled departure from one of the hangars should be easy to detect, but if no one had noticed their ship coming in, it was possible no one had noticed another leaving. But he didn't think they were gone; he thought they were hiding. Why? When he found them, he was going to ask their intentions, and if asking didn't work, he'd use the Force to interrogate. No one could resist that.

"I can't wait to kill them," Hux murmured and Ren saw his lip curl.

"I won't get in your way."

Ren slowed as they neared the junction and walked carefully to the corner where the Resistance group had disappeared. He checked the camera in one corridor. Then he checked the camera in the other corridor. Both had been destroyed by a blaster bolt. He bent down, yanked open a panel near the floor, and peered into the dark, cramped crawlspace.

"How did you know that was there?" Hux demanded.

"Stories," Ren said. Han Solo had been fond of telling a story about a garbage chute. Ren had gotten sick of being told how funny and clever his father was. This was no garbage chute, but if there were wiring closets, there were places for wires and means of maintaining them. "If you were an electrician or a network technician, you would have known, too."

Hux bent down and inspected the crawlspace. "Are we going to follow them through here? I don't think you'll fit."

"They weren't in there for long. They didn't know what they'd found. Otherwise we'd be having power and networking outages reported. They would sabotage us that way." Ren chewed on his lip as he thought. "Where aren't there cameras?"

"Personal quarters," Hux said. "Or the assembly room. Or the training center with the locker rooms and showers. But how would they know which areas had no surveillance systems?"

"They may have spotted a map or a diagram," Ren said. "We check the assembly room first and the training center second. If they got into personal quarters, we're in trouble." He shoved the panel back into place and started for the assembly room. He had wanted to visit it anyway, just under different circumstances.

They made the trip to the assembly room at a brisk walk, but Ren slowed as they neared the doorway. He knew it would be nothing more than an empty room lined with desks, but he could still see Snoke's enormous hologram projection of himself at the far end. He had received punishment in this room; he had also, on rare occasions, received praise.

The door slid open ahead of them and Hux and Ren stepped inside. It was anticlimactic. Ren looked up at the place where Snoke had projected his holographic self and felt nothing: not joy, not fear, not relief. Nothing.

"Stay by the door while I investigate," Ren said. He waited for Hux to draw his blaster from its holster, and then went forward into the room. It was lined with desk after desk; there were few places to hide, and he didn't sense any presence inside, but he methodically swept the room until he was certain that it was empty. Disappointed, he returned to Hux. "We'll try the training center next," he said.

Ren felt on edge as they walked toward the training center. His body was on high alert, his attention everywhere at once. He had the creepy feeling that they were behind him, following, but he knew that couldn't be; it was his imagination. In the back of his mind, he wondered if they had somehow acquired uniforms, and so no longer needed to sneak. He hoped not.

The training center was an enormous room filled with equipment of all sorts. It functioned as a gymnasium for the stormtroopers who were working on their physical skills and performance. There was a blaster shooting range for target practice with various types of blasters. There was an enclosed simulation area. And in the back corner, there was a locker room with changing areas and showers for both men and women. At this time, the entire training center was not in use.

Ren prowled through the training center, one section at a time. The gymnasium was empty. No one was in the shooting range. The enclosed simulation area was unoccupied. Suddenly, he heard a sound—a voice, coming from the men's locker room. Hux glanced at him and they both rushed inside.

A man—definitely one of the group of Resistance fighters—ducked into one of the shower stalls as they charged in, but Hux shot him in the back with a blaster bolt before he could hide himself. He screamed, and Ren advanced on him with his lightsaber ignited, and then footsteps pounded outside of the door to the men's locker room. Ren understood instantly; the others had been hiding in the women's locker room and used this man as a distraction. "Catch them!" he shouted to Hux.

Hux sprinted out of the locker room and Ren heard blaster fire.

Ren dragged the man to his knees with a Force grip around his neck. "Why are you here?" he demanded.

The man didn't answer. Ren let up on the pressure around his neck. The man still didn't answer.

Ren transferred the lightsaber to his left hand and extended his right arm in front of him. He used the Force to grip the man's mind painfully. If he wouldn't tell voluntarily, perhaps pain would encourage him. "Why are you here?" he repeated.

The man squeezed his eyes shut; his face contorted with the pain. The wound in his back was bleeding and his face was growing paler, but Ren didn't care. He wanted answers.

"You're hiding them here—our comrades," the man said at last. "We're looking for General Organa and Han Solo. You have them imprisoned." He drew in a shuddering breath.

Ren laughed; he couldn't help himself. "You're delusional," he said. "Leia and Han and all the others are _dead_."

"You can't know that," the man said vehemently.

"I killed them."

There was a long silence. Ren was about to speak again, say something nasty and painful just to be cruel, when the man continued.

"And we were going to find..." the man said.

"Find _what_?" Ren asked, gripping his mind painfully again.

"They want...plans. Details. Maps. The Resistance will...take down the weapon." The man could barely speak. He screamed with the pain.

Ren released the man's mind and he slumped down; he would have fallen over if Ren hadn't still been holding his body with the Force. But Ren was smiling. "They're dead, too," he said. "All of them."

"You're lying," the man mumbled.

"No. I did it. I annihilated the Resistance and its headquarters."

The man looked up at him and hope drained from his face. He knew it was true. "Kill me now," he said. "I'm going to die anyway."

"Answer one more question," Ren said. "Where are your comrades going from here?"

"I don't know. We ran...out of...ideas." The man was losing consciousness.

Ren knew he wouldn't get any more out of him, and he didn't want to waste any more time on a dying man when there were four living ones. He raised his lightsaber, brought it down to kill the man, and took off running out of the men's locker room to find Hux and the rest of the Resistance group.

He found Hux standing in the hallway with a dead Resistance fighter at his feet and no sign of the others. Hux appeared to be uninjured except for a scuff and bruise on one cheek; he was fuming.

"What happened?" Ren asked.

"This one kicked me in the face, and while we were fighting, the others ran off and I don't know where they went," Hux said. He poked the corpse at his feet with one booted toe. "I killed him, though. We know they're here. And there are only three left."

"They're here to steal plans so that the Resistance can destroy the weapon," Ren told him. "They don't know the Resistance is dead. And they think we're hiding Leia and Han and the others somewhere, too. They're looking for them, but they've run out of ideas."

Hux rubbed his fist into his palm. "They're not hiding anymore. We find them on the cameras in the surveillance room. Then we trigger a lockdown and find them where they're stuck."

Ren was impressed with the strategy, though one part of it made him apprehensive. "Let's do it," he said. He'd get over his feelings and they would win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know where this is going, you didn't read chapter one of Close Proximity. ;D


	18. Eighteen: Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is your reward for making it this far. :P It's a bit longer than the other chapters have been.

The moment Armitage Hux proposed his strategy, he knew it would be a challenge, but he didn't let Ren see how disconcerted the idea made him. He preferred anger, and he was angry, too. He was livid. He couldn't believe they had escaped from him.

He led the way back to the surveillance room and tried to shake off some of the anger. As soon as they stepped into the room, both of the security staff leapt up to tell him that they'd seen the Resistance. He knew that was what they wanted to tell him, and he took that privilege from them. "Where are they?" he asked.

"They've stopped here," one of the men said, pointing up at a monitor. Sure enough, the three of them were huddled in the middle of a disused corridor not too far from the command center. He pointed at a map of the base to show Hux exactly where they were.

Hux studied the map, looked for doors, and tried to gauge how far they could get in the few minutes it would take for Hux and Ren to trigger the lockdown. He was trying not to think about just how they were going to trigger the lockdown. But if they could trap those three, they could find them and kill them.

He showed Ren where the group was hiding and the few places they could go from there in a few minutes. "We'll get them," he assured the security staff member, and gestured for Ren to follow him. As soon as they were alone in the corridor, he took off running for the wiring closet—the same one that he never wanted to see again—and Ren was one step behind him.

Hux almost ran into the door. In the intervening weeks, someone had put a lock on it, and it took Hux a moment to bypass it. No lock would block his security clearance. Then he pushed into the wiring closet and Ren followed him. The door slid shut behind them. And suddenly, Hux couldn't breathe.

Ren patted him on the shoulder. "I know which wires to pull to cut power to the command center, and thus to the base, but how do we trigger a lockdown?"

Hux reminded himself to breathe. "That is a lockdown," he said. "When the command center loses power, all systems shut down. That includes doors."

"But how are we going to get through them?" Ren asked.

"There are manual controls, too. You just have to know where they are," Hux replied. He looked at the wall of wires to which he'd pinned Ren just weeks ago and found the metal bracer. He pointed. "I'll let you do the honors," he said.

Ren smiled at him, as if he knew Hux was afraid. He grabbed the bracer and the wires behind it, and yanked. Just as before, the lights cut out and the familiar low hum of the base disappeared. They had triggered a lockdown. The Resistance group was trapped and would remain so until someone came in here and put the wires back together.

Before Hux knew it, he had his arms around Ren in the blackness and he was kissing him hard. Ren squeezed him, one arm around Hux's back and the other at the base of his neck, and returned the kiss with passion. Hux appreciated the vigor. So often Ren was the passive partner in kissing, and while a kiss was a kiss, Hux liked this better.

Ren rubbed his back with one hand and cupped his chin with the other, and Hux found himself relaxing and giving up control. He _never_ gave up control. But Ren was kissing _him_ , sweetly, passionately, harshly, guiding and inviting him. Ren's hand caressed his back, kneaded it, drew him closer. Kissing had never felt so intimate.

When Ren finally backed off to catch his breath, Hux said, "We should—" But Ren wasn't done. He pushed the front of Hux's uniform jacket up and eased his hand down the front of Hux's breeches. "Mm!" Hux's cock was only half-hard, but Ren effortlessly coaxed it into full hardness. Hux wanted to—had intended to—tell him they shouldn't be doing this now, but he hadn't felt like this in...he couldn't remember ever feeling like this. They would just have to hurry. "We don't have much time," he said hoarsely as Ren stroked his cock.

Ren deftly unfastened his breeches and tugged them down past his knees along with his underwear. Hux was preparing for another blowjob when Ren surprised him by turning him around to face the wall. Then he heard the sound of body parts banging against the walls of the wiring closet and almost laughed. The closet was too tight for kneeling to be comfortable or practical. Finally, Ren laid his hands on Hux's ass and gently spread the cheeks.

The word 'no' was on Hux's lips. Yes, he had done this to other people. He'd even done it to Ren a couple of times. But no one had ever done it _to_ him; he had never relinquished control enough to allow it. He almost said 'No', but before he could force out the words, Ren pressed his lips to the place where the cleft began and started kissing down. Hux braced his palms flat against the wire-covered wall and shut his eyes to the darkness.

Ren kissed down to the pucker and Hux could feel that he'd crammed the whole lower part of his face into the crack. He felt the heat of Ren's breath against his skin. But instead of starting with the careful technique of tongue-tracing that Hux preferred to use, Ren attacked with his whole mouth. He buried his face in the crack of Hux's ass and licked with the flat of his tongue, sucked on the delicate skin with his lips, and probed just slightly inside with the tip of his tongue. He was making obscene but enthusiastic slurps.

Hux felt his fingers clench around some wires and tried desperately to release them before he caused more damage. He moaned and panted and struggled to keep quiet, but he couldn't. His cock was hard, so hard, too hard, and he wanted to touch it, but his hands were occupied. A whining sound escaped him and his head fell back and he cried Ren's name. The sensation was delightful and maddening and _filthy_ ; he had never felt anything like it. He was losing control of himself over something as simple as Ren's tongue. But this wasn't simple; somehow this was anything but simple.

Ren hummed softly and the vibrations resonated through Hux's body. His tongue probed a little deeper, and he grabbed Hux's hips to keep him from moving while he buried his face further into the crack of Hux's ass.

Hux almost wept with pleasure and frustration. He was panting so hard he could barely breathe. His cries no longer resembled words. He wanted to come, needed to come, couldn't come from just Ren's tongue on his ass; that would be too humiliating, but he couldn't care about humiliation now. "Fuck, Ren!" Thick spurts of semen squirted from his cock. He heard some splatter onto the floor and felt some drip down his flagging cock and onto his thighs.

Ren stood up with the requisite thuds and a soft snarl. He put his arm around Hux's chest and held him with his back against Ren's chest while his knees wobbled. In that position, Hux could feel Ren's cock hard against his ass and he awaited a request or an effort to attend to that, but Ren did nothing about it. Instead, he said, "We need to go."

"What about you?" Hux asked. He was tired; his exhaustion was catching up with him. He wanted to stay here in this position for a long time; it was so comfortable.

"Later," Ren said. "We know where they are. They're trap—"

A deafening boom resounded through the wiring closet and shook the floor. The metal bracer rattled where it lay. Hux was knocked off balance and he hit the wall hard. Ren fell into him. Hux was sure he had wire imprints on his face.

"Oh, shit! What was that?" Hux asked. What was it about the two of them and this wiring closet? He was _never_ coming back in here again.

"I think it's safe to say that we didn't trap all of the Resistance fighters in the lockdown," Ren said. He steadied himself so that he was no longer pinning Hux to the wall.

Hux was already reaching for the waistband of his breeches to pull them up. "That sounded too far away to be the command center," he said. That was a relief. If they had destroyed the command center, Starkiller Base might not survive. "We have to kill the ones we trapped before they get there. And then we track down whatever it was that just happened." He muttered a curse when he had to don his breeches without cleaning up first. He hoped he didn't have come on his clothes; there was no way to tell in the blackness of the wiring closet.

"Let's go make some use of your manual controls." Ren released Hux and went for the door, but of course it didn't open. "We could use some manual controls right here."

"This door doesn't have them," Hux said. 

"Stand back," Ren said, holding Hux away from the door with his left arm while he ignited his lightsaber and cut a hole in the door with the other. Maintenance had repaired this door from the same damage just weeks ago; now they would have to do it again.

The corridor was dark, illuminated only by the flickering glow of Ren's lightsaber. Hux thought there had been some light last time, but there was nothing this time. They needed a flashlight. Fortunately, he knew where to find one. "This way," he said, gesturing down the corridor so that Ren would know which way to go.

They walked in silence until Hux found the right doorway. This one had no automatic door, so he could duck inside—followed by Ren with the light—and come out with a flashlight in moments. He turned on the heavy flashlight and Ren put out his lightsaber. They didn't need it for the moment.

"If they didn't move between when we saw them and when we triggered the lockdown, they'll be down this corridor, then left, then right," Hux said. "We'll have to bypass two locked doors in order to get to them. Be on alert. They might have chosen a new location."

With his own senses attuned to possible motion or sound, he walked the length of the corridor and turned his attention to the first locked-down door. Although it had never before come to this in his time on Starkiller Base, the doors all had manual controls built in so that they could be opened in the case of a malfunction or a power outage. He was almost amused to note that both of the power outages had been his own fault.

Ren stood watch while Hux opened the door, but there was no one inside the enclosed space. Hux was proceeding into that space when he heard Ren whisper his name. He stopped and heard it, too—footsteps, behind them. The Resistance? The flashlight made them perfect targets; he snapped it off and listened closer. If the Resistance fighters had made it this far, they could get into the Command Center. No!

"We have to take them down— _now_ ," Hux whispered. Before he'd finished his sentence, Ren had ignited his lightsaber and taken off running. Hux flipped on the flashlight and directed it down the corridor until he spotted the three flattened against the wall; then he turned the flashlight off and fired his blaster.

Bolts flickered around in the darkness, not all of them Hux's.

By the time Ren reached the end of the corridor, three screams had alerted Hux that his aim had been true. Hux approached the bodies and turned on the flashlight to get a look at their injuries. One was dead, with a blaster bolt to the head. The other two were injured badly enough that they weren't firing at him. He didn't speak to them, didn't ask questions. He raised his blaster and killed each with a single shot. Victory!

After holstering his blaster, he felt something hot and sticky on his left arm, and looked down to see a blaster bolt had hit him in the shoulder. He hadn't noticed, and he only now started to feel any pain. He would deal with it later. They had an explosion to find.

Hux led Ren back to the command center. The door was closed and locked, so they—meaning Ren, since Hux could barely use his left arm and the flashlight occupied his right hand—had to use the manual controls to get it open. When they finally broke in, five officers were waiting with blaster pistols aimed at them and ready to fire.

"Don't shoot!" Hux said. Ren got the door open wide enough for the two of them to enter, and Hux stepped inside to take charge. "What happened? What was that explosion?"

"We believe it was in one of the hangars, but we can't get in contact with anyone down there," one of the officers reported. It was too dark to recognize who he was, and Hux didn't care at the moment. "The power went out _before_ the explosion. We don't know how that could have happened."

"I know," Hux said, wincing as much at the memory of his indiscretion as at the pain in his shoulder. His fingers were beginning to tingle and he couldn't bend them without sending pain shooting through his whole arm. It hurt, but he had to hold it together just a little longer. "But Supreme Leader Ren and I need to track down the source of the explosion immediately." He addressed Ren, "Let's go."

The journey to the hangars was easier because of the fewer doors, but Hux found himself lagging behind Ren because of the pain. He wished he could be like Ren, who didn't seem to feel pain, or who used it to give himself strength. He didn't complain, didn't say a word about the injury or the pain he felt. He kept moving, tried to think about something else, anything else, and attempted to keep up with Ren.

"Stop," Ren said, and he turned around to face Hux. He reached under his uniform jacket and started unbuckling his belt.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hux demanded. This was no time for that!

Ren gently looped his wide black leather belt around Hux's left forearm, bent at the elbow, and then buckled the belt at the back of his neck. He adjusted the loop so that the buckle was away from his neck, and then stood back. "Better?"

The makeshift sling took the weight off Hux's shoulder. It wasn't comfortable, but it was much less painful. "Yes," he said. He opened his mouth to thank Ren, but Ren was already striding down the corridor. Hux did his best to catch up and the sling helped considerably.

Sometimes Ren was...almost kind.

Starkiller Base had four large hangars, and all four had emergency lights that didn't depend upon main power, so Hux could turn off his flashlight and stick the heavy baton into his belt in favor of his blaster. The one in which Ren had left the command shuttle was the second one they encountered. The first hangar looked fine. When they reached the second hangar, Ren looked inside and swore viciously. Hux hadn't realized Ren even knew those words. But he swore, too, as he looked into the hangar and saw that one ship had been destroyed: Ren's command shuttle. And the explosion had damaged other essential parts of the hangar and the ships that occupied it as well.

Hux was about to say something, but Ren touched a single finger to his lips. "He's still in here," Ren whispered. "I heard something. That way." He tipped his head to their right.

They crept in that direction, Ren a step ahead of Hux, and then Hux saw it. "Blood," he whispered, pointing at a smear on the floor.

The smear continued around a corner and it became wider and wetter as it went. Whoever had destroyed the shuttle had been injured badly in the process, but had managed to drag himself into a hiding place. He might not still be alive.

Blaster pistol raised, Hux rounded the final corner and found a member of the Resistance slouched against the wall with his blaster propped up on his knee. He fired at Hux, who just barely avoided another bolt to the shoulder, and then Hux aimed and fired. The man slumped down dead, but Hux fired several more bolts into his body for revenge. He would have liked to torture the man before he killed him, but his shoulder wasn't up for torture. He needed to get to medbay.

Ren's growl startled him, and Hux took several steps backward as Ren ignited his lightsaber and slashed violently at debris and walls and anything that got in his way. Hux was almost relieved. This was predictable Ren. Once he had gotten his fury out, Ren caught his breath and turned to Hux. "Medbay."

It was a long walk and Hux hurt too much to talk. Besides, what was there to talk about beyond their failures? Sure, they had killed the last of the Resistance, but at what cost? Hux knew how attached Ren was to that command shuttle, and to be honest, he was attached to it, too. They had history. They'd been through a lot together.

Medbay ran on separate power from the rest of the base, so Hux was able to stow away his flashlight once more. Outside of the door, he surrendered Ren's belt so that he could look tough. Ren's trousers were perfectly capable of staying up on their own.

In medbay, he was ushered into a little cubicle. "Sit here, please," the droid said, patting an examination table. "The doctor will be in to see you shortly. You will need to remove your shirt." It left him there.

Ren sat down in a chair on the other side of the cubicle. "You heard the droid. Take off the jacket." He sounded almost cheerful, but Hux could tell it was forced. He could see the darkness in Ren's eyes. There would be another explosion later; of that he was certain.

Hux unzipped the front of his uniform top and shrugged out of it—or tried to. The right shoulder came out easily, but the same motion on the left side sent pain stabbing through his shoulder and down his arm. Then Ren was there at his side, extracting his whole right arm from the shirt, and then easing it off the left arm. Hux mumbled something that was supposed to be thanks. Ren sat down as if nothing had happened.

Hux was thankful that he didn't have to remove his undershirt. He could push the short sleeve of the white undershirt up enough to reveal the wound without taking off the entire shirt. Although he knew his chest was unremarkable, he sometimes felt self-conscious about revealing it to others.

The medidroid bustled into the cubicle. It cleaned the wound, applied bacta and a bandage, injected a painkiller without asking permission, and dismissed him. "You're fit to return to duty," it said, and left.

Accustomed to being treated like Grand Marshal—or at least like a general—Hux scowled at the medidroid for treating him like one of his lowest-level personnel. He wasn't a stormtrooper. He wasn't a custodian. And he would _not_ be treated as such.

"Let it go," Ren said.

Hux pulled his uniform jacket back on with minimal difficulty. The painkiller really worked, though he would have appreciated being asked for his consent first. He let it go. He had other things to think about.

Out in the darkened corridor again, Ren asked, "When are we going to tell them about the damage to the wiring closet?"

Hux had forgotten about that part. "I'd like to check it out first in the light to make sure there's no...um...."

"Evidence," Ren supplied.

"Evidence," Hux affirmed.

Fortunately, as Hux discovered when he shone the flashlight beam on the walls and floor, the only evidence, so to speak, was on the floor. He had nothing to use to wipe it up, so he settled for smearing it with his boot until it was no longer recognizable. Then, satisfied enough, he said, "Now we tell them about the power outage. And the shuttle."

The first person to ask was Lieutenant Dierdre. "What happened in the hangar?" she asked when they were finally dragging themselves back toward the command center.

Hux rubbed his forehead with his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. His head ached right there in the front center, but his fingers did nothing to ease the pain. "There was another intruder that we didn't see. He was in the hangar. He caused an explosion. We killed him."

"What damage was there?" she asked.

"Supreme Leader Ren's command shuttle was destroyed. The rest of the hangar and some of the nearby ships were also damaged," Hux said. And they wouldn't have been if he'd paid more attention, but he couldn't have known that there was another Resistance fighter who hadn't left the hangar.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said.

He didn't know what to say, so he brushed past her with Ren just behind him.

The second person to ask was less gentle. "What the hell happened down there?" the captain demanded.

Hux found himself rubbing his forehead again and lowered his hand. "An intruder we never saw caused an explosion in the hangar that damaged a shuttle and some nearby ships," he said, hoping that this would be enough. He didn't want to reveal his failure again.

"I was told you know Starkiller Base the best of anyone, but after they put _you_ on the case, there's blaster fire in the corridors, someone knocks out power and networking to the whole base, _and_ somebody blows up a hangar and some ships," the captain said.

Before Hux could respond, the captain's face reddened and his mouth opened and shut like a fish's. Hux looked over his shoulder and saw that Ren was choking him with the Force. He was reminded of the fistfight in the bar and he felt a similar combination of gratitude and anger. "I should have you cleaning toilets for that comment," Hux said, but he didn't have the energy to follow through.

When the captain was released, he said abruptly, "I'm sorry, Grand Marshal." And before Hux could speak, the captain hurried off, turned a corner, and was gone.

The third person to ask could actually do something about it. "What happened in the hangar?" asked one of the officers in the command center. Hux was sure he knew the man's name, but he couldn't dig it out of his memory at the moment.

"An intruder we didn't know existed set off an explosion in the hangar. Supreme Leader Ren's command shuttle was destroyed, and the hangar and some nearby ships were also damaged," Hux said. Then he got to the point in an effort to avoid more questioning. "Supreme Leader and I are going to need a replacement shuttle in order to return to the _Supremacy_."

"We don't have any Upsilon-class shuttles on Starkiller Base, but I'm sure we can find something acceptable for you," the officer said.

Hux didn't show his dismay. Or he tried not to; it was possible that his expression had been showing his dismay throughout the entire conversation. "We need the shuttle ready within the hour," he said. He had to get away from here. He couldn't stand being here any longer.

By the time Hux and Ren were ready to leave, some of the power had been restored to Starkiller Base. The low hum—a sound one didn't notice until its sudden presence or absence—had returned, indicating that the most basic systems were functioning again. The command center had power but no networking. That was less of a priority.

No one asked about the lockdown. Hux supposed that this meant they assumed the Resistance fighters were responsible for that as well, which made Hux look bad, but he couldn't give a damn anymore. He didn't try to explain. They would figure it out eventually, but he and Ren would be long gone by then. It would be a long time before Hux would willingly return to Starkiller Base and he would never, _ever_ set foot in that wiring closet again.

Eventually, they provided Hux and Ren with another shuttle. It wasn't Upsilon-class, and it wasn't nearly as nice, but that mattered little to him at the moment. They could acquire another Upsilon-class shuttle on the _Supremacy_ , but not immediately, and they would have to endure more humiliation by admitting what had happened to the previous one.

It was barely past midday and Hux just wanted to go to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I don't know how it took them eighteen chapters to get to the smut. D: I tried to put some good stuff in earlier, but the characters wouldn't cooperate.


	19. Nineteen: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is in sight!
> 
> The terrible puns are back:  
> I never wanted to believe my dad was stealing from his job as a road worker...

Kylo Ren couldn't get Hux off his mind.

They had returned from Starkiller Base in the early afternoon and split up as soon as they arrived in the hangar of the _Supremacy_. They both had duties to attend to, but Hux enjoyed and derived satisfaction from his, while Ren found his tremendously boring. He hadn't known ahead of time that the tasks of being Supreme Leader or Grand Marshal would be so dull.

Today he was too distracted to do them well, so he gave up after an hour of pretending to work, and returned to his quarters to be alone. He ordered for dinner to be delivered and sat down on the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands. No matter how he tried to focus, his mind went to Hux, this morning, in the wiring closet. He couldn't stop thinking about it.

He fell back onto the bed and adjusted himself so that he was lying flat on his back. As soon as he closed his eyes, he was there in the wiring closet again, kneeling with his face buried in Hux's ass, his mouth on that tender little bud, and Hux was making those noises. He had never heard Hux make noises like that before. He felt his cock getting hard just imagining them.

Ren was out of patience. He practically ripped open his trousers in his desperation to touch himself. He wrapped his hand around his cock and thrust up into it, fucking his hand as hard and fast as he could without causing pain or discomfort. His breath came in sharp gasps, each exhale a strained "ah!" as his hand held steady against his frantic thrusts.

He hadn't been able to see anything, but his mind filled in those details as he dwelt on the other senses: the sound of moans and cries, the taste of sweat and skin, that indefinable smell that he associated with Hux's body, the feeling of heat and softness. He had never done that to anyone before, and from his experience he'd guess that Hux had never received it from anyone before. It had been so intense and pleasurable that he'd almost come, untouched, just from giving it.

A faint clicking sound from the doorway startled him. Dinner! He hastily zipped his trousers and rolled over onto his stomach to conceal his erection. But instead of the standard delivery, the door opened and Hux entered, carrying the tray of food.

He looked tired, faint dark smudges underneath his eyes, and there was a slight suggestion of a crease on his cheek, as though he had just moments ago lifted his head from his pillow. Despite the evidence of his exhaustion—and the peculiarity of thinking of Hux sleeping during the day—Ren still found him attractive. Hux's presence still stirred up pleasurable memories. It was almost too much to see him now, as he'd just been enjoying Hux in his fantasies.

"Am I interrupting something?" Hux asked. Mild suspicion crossed his face, but faded swiftly back to the mask he must think concealed his exhaustion.

"No." Ren didn't move. He wondered if Hux was here to talk or to start something sexual. Either way, he didn't want to be caught masturbating. He would wait it out. "Why are you delivering my dinner?"

"We need to talk," Hux said.

Ren sighed. He would have to get off later. Now he willed his erection to go down; he would just have to endure the ache. "Pass the tray over here," he said.

Hux laid the tray on the bed. "You could sit up."

"I could," Ren acknowledged. He picked up a spoon, prodded his stew, and brought a bite to his mouth. "Mmm. Have you already eaten?"

"Not yet," Hux said irritably. He remained standing and Ren didn't invite him to sit.

"What do we need to talk about?" Ren asked. He knew. It was going to be the Force-sensitive children again. It was always the Force-sensitive children, and now Ren had no excuse not to go after them. He was not looking forward to this quest, but he would have to find some way to make the best of it.

"The Force-sensitive youth," Hux said, predictably. Ren almost wanted to roll his eyes. "We're leaving to find them tomorrow. Are you...are you bringing the Knights of Ren?"

Ren savored a bite of stew and made Hux wait. "This is delicious," he said. It was a tasty stew, but he wouldn't flatter it with 'delicious' if it wasn't part of his plan. "You should get some and we can discuss this over dinner." Anything to get Hux out of his quarters long enough for him to collect himself.

Hux gazed at him, made eye contact, and then looked away. "Promise you'll wait for me?" he asked. There was a flicker of hope, of vulnerability, in his eyes, and then it was gone.

Ren laid down his spoon. "I promise."

Hux walked out with a lingering glance over his shoulder.

As soon as Hux was gone, Ren rolled over onto his back again, but his erection had gone down enough that he didn't want to rouse it again in the short time he had. 

He got up, looked down at his rumpled clothing, and decided to change. He pulled off his boots and socks and trousers and put on soft pants that he usually used as pajamas. He removed his uniform jacket as well and wore just his undershirt. He didn't want to have this conversation, but since he had to, at least he would be comfortable.

His attention returned to Hux's mention of the Knights of Ren. He had known that he would have to involve the Knights of Ren in the matter of the Force-sensitive children, but he had been avoiding the matter. He didn't know why. He was the master of the Knights of Ren; they did as he commanded. He should be glad to summon them again. But what bothered him most now was that Hux had predicted that Ren would summon them before Ren had said a word about them.

He was seated on the bed and looking longingly at the food on the tray when Hux finally returned with a tray of food for himself. "You changed," he said with an appraising look at Ren's clothing. He sat down on the edge of the bed and set the tray on his lap.

"I have no more official business to attend to," Ren said.

"This conversation with me isn't official business?" Hux asked crisply.

"You're sitting on my bed. No official business is conducted in bed," Ren said.

Hux swallowed. Ren knew that he was thinking about the planning session they had conducted in Ren's bed. It had been one of their most enjoyable planning sessions, though that wasn't saying much. "Where were we," he said, and then continued without waiting for an answer. "You agreed to leave tomorrow. I asked if you were bringing the Knights of Ren."

"I don't recall agreeing," Ren said to irritate Hux.

"You agreed," Hux said through clenched teeth.

Ren continued as if he hadn't heard. "Yes, I do intend to summon the Knights of Ren. I want their assistance in evaluating these Force-sensitive children you're so focused on. We may end up training them together."

"Or killing them," Hux said.

"Or killing them," Ren agreed.

"Are you going to summon _all_ of the Knights?" Hux asked. He was paying no attention to his meal.

Ren, on the other hand, took a long moment to savor his stew. When he'd finished chewing—and watching Hux squirm—he shrugged and said, "I'll ask all of them, but I can't guarantee they'll all come."

"But you're their master! If you summon them, they'll come to you."

Ren squinted at him. "Why does this matter so much to you?"

Hux ate several bites of his stew and ripped pieces off his hunk of bread before he answered. When he did, he said only, "I need to know for planning purposes. How many Knights are there anyway?"

"Five, last I checked," Ren said, shrugging. The Knights of Ren had been larger at times, but the weaker ones had a tendency to get themselves killed. Ren would summon all five and—unlike what he had said to annoy Hux—all five would come. Hux wasn't the only one who could play games.

"Last you checked," Hux muttered incredulously, rubbing his face with his hands. But he seemed to have no more questions. He ate in silence, glancing only occasionally over at Ren.

Ren was tempted to reassure him, but decided to let him suffer with the uncertainty. It wasn't any of his business how many Knights were coming anyway, and Ren didn't believe his excuse. It was time to take another look into Hux's mind to find out his true intentions, and he would do so quietly and gently, so as not to alert Hux that it was happening.

He took a big bite as an excuse not to reply for a moment and carefully dove in.

At the forefront of Hux's mind was the wiring closet, and Ren found himself reliving their moments in the closet from Hux's perspective. But he wasn't interested in that, so he looked deeper. At the level beneath that memory lay what must be a fantasy, as it was nothing that had ever happened. It was sex: sex between him and Ren, but this time Ren was giving.

Hux was sprawled naked on his back on an untidy bed with his legs hooked over Ren's shoulders. One of his legs was bent at the knee with his bare heel digging in to Ren's back, and the other leg was caught at the ankle and splayed out to the side. Hux's head was thrown back, his face flushed bright pink, his hair a sweaty mess, and his hands were in fists around the sheets. Ren's cock was inside him and Ren was fucking him hard.

There was nothing about Knights or children, just...sex.

"I could—could repay you," Hux said rapidly. His voice startled Ren out of his mind before he could dig deeper.

Ren swallowed. "What?" He draped his left forearm casually over his lap to cover the beginnings of an erection, and then took another bite. His stew was almost gone.

"For this morning. You didn't finish and I could repay you for that...for what you did," Hux said. He had never sounded apprehensive like this before. Hux was confident when it came to sex; it was part of his personality. "I know what you were doing when I came in."

Ren felt his face flush with embarrassment at being caught, but he knew—he thought he knew—what Hux wanted. "Consider it a gift," he said. He would give Hux what he wanted, but he would make him wait.

Hux gazed at him with a vulnerable expression on his face, and Ren wondered if that fantasy were playing inside his head right now. Then his expression hardened until every trace of the vulnerability was gone. He stood up with his tray and said, "We leave tomorrow at noon." And he strode purposefully toward the door and was gone.

Ren placed his tray on the floor and lay down on his back again. He had plans to make from here. First, he must summon the Knights of Ren. They would come. He was their master, for one thing, but for another he knew that they would be interested in a new collective of Force-sensitive children that they could corrupt into dark Force users. Personally, Ren disliked children, but he would make sacrifices to train them if they were receptive. If they were not...he'd follow Hux's lead and kill them.

And what about Hux? Ren had felt himself softening toward Hux. All the things they'd done together, particularly recently, brought them closer—even though Hux had to be an asshole every time he had the opportunity. But he couldn't let himself be deterred. Hux still couldn't be trusted. Hux still intended to kill him. He had to kill Hux, even if only for that reason. He'd had chances and he'd failed to take advantage of them, but he would. On this mission, with the Knights of Ren around them, Hux would die.

He got up from the bed. It was time to summon the Knights of Ren if he wanted them to be present at noon tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...but when I got home the signs were all there.
> 
> Please forgive my interpretation of the Knights of Ren if it's incorrect. I did some research, but it was hard to tell what was canon fact and what was speculation.


	20. Twenty: Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close! Just a few more chapters! :)

Armitage Hux did not like the Knights of Ren and he made no secret of this fact. He knew that they didn't like him either. As Ren piloted the newly acquired shuttle toward the Mid Rim planet, Hux sat in the copilot's seat, while the five Knights sat in the passenger compartment and talked amongst themselves. All five wore black robes and masks like the ones Ren had worn before he became Supreme Leader and chose less cumbersome attire. Compared to them, Ren seemed suddenly very sweet.

With such short notice, the crew of the _Supremacy_ had not been able to find another Upsilon-class command shuttle immediately—not even for the Supreme Leader and Grand Marshal. Ren was justifiably angry. Hux was considerably annoyed, though part of it was resentment at not being considered high-ranking enough to get him any kriffing shuttle he wanted whenever he wanted it. Outwardly, he'd stick with annoyed.

The new shuttle—a replacement for a day or two until they could acquire another command shuttle—was an acceptable replacement as long as he didn't think about how and why it was a replacement. It was not as imposing and impressive as Ren's command shuttle with its thirty-meter wings, but it was slightly more spacious. In addition to a cockpit and a passenger compartment, it also had a cargo hold. Hux rather wished they could store the Knights of Ren in the cargo hold so that he wouldn't have to see or hear them, but he kept that to himself. Ren wouldn't kill him for that insult, but the Knights might not have such reservations. They were outside of the formal structure of the First Order; officially, they didn't have to respect or obey him.

Hux had two plans for the way this mission went: how to kill the youth, the Knights of Ren, and their master Kylo Ren. His first plan would be best, but he had an alternative in case Ren read his mind and stopped him. He didn't think Ren was paying any attention to him and his thoughts, but sometimes it was difficult to tell. Usually having his mind read was a painful, very noticeable experience, like having a knife slicing through his head, but he knew that Ren could accomplish it without such evidence.

Regardless, Ren seemed preoccupied, though by what Hux could not tell. He stayed in the pilot's seat as if riveted by the pulsating glow of hyperspace.

When the shuttle landed on the Mid Rim planet, Hux was the first down the loading ramp and onto the planet's surface. It was not what he expected. The planet was heavily populated in some areas, but this was not one of them.

The shuttle had landed in a clearing in the middle of a deciduous forest. Knotted trees grew high all around the clearing, but there were several clear paths leading in different directions. A little ways off, he saw a small cluster of buildings that appeared to be made from sheets of stone. He stood, listening. He knew the youth would be here, and that they—like other Force users—were dangerous, but he didn't know if there were any adults to guard them. He didn't think so, but he would be cautious.

He wondered what Ren expected him to do. Was he expected to run up to these youth and shoot them down with his blaster before he asked questions? Did Ren think he was going to wait for his decision before killing them, just in case Ren did also decide to kill them? Hux was looking at the buildings with the hope that they would be adequate for his original plan. He would wait, yes, and he would kill them all.

Expecting the others to be right behind him, Hux strode through the forest in the direction of the buildings. As he neared the stone structures, he heard voices coming from inside. They were children's voices. He heard no adults. Choosing to be polite, he stopped at the front door of the building that seemed to be occupied, and he knocked. In another situation, he might have broken it down, but he wanted the children to stay here—not flee—so that he could kill them all at once.

He heard running footsteps from inside, and then the door opened to reveal a small child: a girl, perhaps six years old, milky pale skin, bright red-orange hair. She could have been his sister when he was that age. Or his daughter.

At that age, she would already be indoctrinated in his training program. He didn't like children, but he did know how to raise them to be soldiers. This one, though, didn't need to know that.

"Hi!" she said brightly. There was no suspicion in her demeanor. "Who are you?"

"My name is Armitage Hux," he said. No titles. They didn't need to know that either. "I'm here to talk to you and your...companions. I have some questions for you."

"Okay, Armie! Come in." She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the building. Her hand was warm, but fortunately not sticky.

Hux got one last glance behind him, where Ren and the five Knights were standing and watching. He tried to signal to them, but it was too late. "I have friends who want to talk to you, too," he said.

The girl tugged harder on his hand. "Come on, Armie! You've gotta meet my brothers and sisters. We like talking to people. We don't get a lot of visitors. And we never get grown-ups."

Hux gritted his teeth at the name. He didn't want to socialize with these youths. All he needed was to make sure this was the nest of Force-sensitive youth. Then Ren could talk to them. And then they would die—all of them together.

The building was large and seemed to serve as living quarters for a collection of individuals, with many small rooms that seemed to be bedrooms. He was pulled past a stairway that seemed to go up two more levels. From the inside, he couldn't tell that the exterior was made of stone. He was pleased by what he saw. And then he entered a spacious living room and saw the youth. Ren was right; they were children.

"This is Armie," the girl said, tugging on his hand. She still hadn't released his hand. Then she introduced herself and the six other children that were relaxing or playing in the living room. Hux was good with names, but he didn't bother to remember all of these. It didn't matter, since they would all be dead in a matter of hours.

The original girl was the youngest, with the oldest appearing to be about fourteen years of age. Two were girls and five were boys. They clearly came from a variety of backgrounds, but all of them were human. When the original girl had called them brothers and sisters, she hadn't meant by blood. The other girl, a dark-skinned pre-adolescent with striking amber eyes, seemed equally friendly, but the boys were more reticent.

Hux seated himself on one of two sofas that lined two walls of the living room. As soon as he sat down, the youngest girl hopped up off the floor and plopped down next to Hux on the sofa. Hux could feel his skin crawl at the close contact. In his real life, he would be training this child to obey him without question. There would be no physical contact between the trainer and the trainee.

All the children turned toward him with admiration in their eyes. They liked him. Hux would have to make sure they didn't like him— _after_ he got the information he needed. Where did he begin? He could be direct and ask if they knew what the Force was. He could be indirect and ask if they ever made unusual things happen, but that could be interpreted different ways. Hux didn't know the Force. This was Ren's realm. Ren should be having this conversation. Where was Ren anyway?

"Have you heard of the Force?" Hux asked.

There was a long silence. That had been the wrong question to ask. But he couldn't take it back. He hoped that he hadn't ruined everything with these children.

Finally, one of the boys piped up. "That's why we're here, isn't it?"

The red-haired girl sitting next to him said, "They were afraid of us in the cities. Our parents put us here. But we need training. Are you here to train us, Armie?"

"I'm not," Hux said, and observed their disappointment. "But I have someone with me who'd very much like to train you. A friend."

"Is he nice?" asked the girl next to him.

Hux didn't know how to answer. The children were supposed to dislike him and like Ren—at least that was the goal—but he couldn't honestly tell them that Ren was nice. He regretted coming in here without Ren. Ren's presence would have made this so much easier. "I'll let you decide," he said. "Let me go get him." He stood up, but the girl held on to his hand.

Hux winced. He would teach children complete, unquestioning obedience, but he would not touch them or let them touch him. He had gotten what he wanted from these children. He no longer needed to be nice.

"Let go!" he snapped.

The girl eased up on her grip, but didn't quite let go.

"Are you hungry?" one of the boys asked. "I get crabby when I'm hungry. We have food—they bring it—and some of it's even good. Your blood...um...blood salt must be low!"

"Blood sugar," Hux mumbled. He was going to kill these children. He didn't have to be nice to them now. All he had to do was go get Ren and let him take it from here. He'd get all the children and all the Knights and Kylo Ren in one place and then... "I'm not hungry. Let go of my hand and I'll go get my friend."

The oldest boy spoke for the first time. "We saw you land your spaceship outside. Can we come with you and look at it? I've never seen the inside of a real spaceship before."

"Yeah!" said several of the others.

"No," Hux said.

"Please! Please! C'mon, Armie!"

Several children clutched at his hands. One tried to leap onto his back. Hux was reminded of a nature documentary where a group of small animals took down a larger animal by working together.

"Let go of me!" he shouted.

The children stilled, quieted, stepped back. "I think he's hungry," whispered the boy. The other children nodded their agreement.

Before they could reattach themselves, Hux backed out of the living room and down the hallway that led to it.

"Are those guys in black going to come in too?" the original girl shouted after him. "The living room is too small, but they can see our playhouse next door. Do you want to see our playhouse, Armie?"

Hux backed into the front door, turned to open it, and freed himself from the house and the children. He rushed back to the clearing, where Ren and the Knights were standing and conversing about something. "They're all yours," Hux said, shaking his head. "And if they ask for me, I'm not here."

One of the Knights—without seeing their faces, Hux couldn't tell them apart—said, "No, you're coming with us. You can stand to the side, but you'll be there." Hux wondered if he was suspicious about Hux's intentions, or whether he was just controlling and wanted everything his way. Hux guessed the latter.

Hux could not see this going well, and he had other things to do during this time, but he grudgingly agreed. "I'll introduce you," he said. Now he wished he had paid attention to names. It didn't matter. He was sure they'd introduce themselves all over again. He started back toward the house, with the five Knights and Ren following behind him.

Erie. The little red-haired girl's name was Erie.


	21. Twenty-one: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: There's a _very_ brief mention of vomiting in this chapter and the next, but if I (as an emetophobe) can write it, you can probably read it without issue.
> 
> Anyway...enjoy! :)

From the clearing where he was waiting, Kylo Ren had heard Hux shout something inside the house, but he hadn't been able to make out the words. He had been hesitant to let Hux go inside alone, but he'd doubted that Hux would be able to walk into a house filled with children and just murder them. And he'd been right.

When Hux had emerged from the house, he had looked flustered—or perhaps more than flustered. Intimidated. He had looked intimidated. Who would have thought that the mighty Hux, an expert at training children to become obedient stormtroopers, could be intimidated by a group of children? Something had happened in there and Ren wanted to know what it was.

Hux knocked lightly on the front door and a little red-haired girl came to answer it. "Armie! You're back!" She opened the door and grabbed his hand. Hux flinched and tried surreptitiously to pull back his hand, but she was clinging too tightly. "Those guys look kind of scary up close. Are they nice?"

Ren suppressed the urge to laugh. The children already had a nickname for him. This girl was obviously attached to him already, despite—Ren was sure—Hux's efforts to avoid this.

Hux gestured at Ren with his free hand. "This is my friend, the one who wants to train you."

The girl gazed uneasily at him. She may have taken to Hux right away, but she had reservations when it came to him and the Knights. "Is he hungry?" she asked.

Hux must have understood that, but he didn't explain. "No, he's fine. Why don't you show us your playhouse. Bring your friends. We can all have a nice talk."

"We'll bring snacks," the girl said. She pointed at one of the other buildings, a boxy, tall structure. "Go over there." She tugged on Hux's hand and asked quietly, "Are you sure they're nice?"

Ren led the Knights away from the door of the house and up to the entryway of what they called a playhouse. He laid his hand on the doorknob and turned; the door swung open. The inside was a large room, darkened but dimly illuminated by ambient light from outside. A sort of loft formed a second story near the roof of the stone building. He didn't see anything that hinted why the children would call it a playhouse. It looked like the inside of an abandoned warehouse.

He found a light switch and flipped it on. The additional light showed large exercise mats and racks of crude weapons designed for play and practice. They were training. He crossed the room to one of the racks to browse through the wooden practice weapons. He would have to watch them fight, but perhaps these children would need less training than he'd anticipated. He even found a staff that could have been a wooden lightsaber.

If he could turn these children to the darkness, they would make fine apprentices. He and the Knights would teach them everything they needed to know. Ren didn't like children, but he thought he could make an exception for these. And if he couldn't turn them, he would let Hux kill them. He wouldn't participate—he didn't hate them the way Hux must—but he wouldn't stop him either. He hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

A few minutes passed, and then the door opened and a small band of children entered the playhouse. There were seven of them. The first girl, the redhead, was still clinging to Hux's hand and pulling on him in her eagerness. A boy behind them was holding on to the back of Hux's uniform jacket. Another girl, slightly older, carried what looked like a heavy tray of snack food, a pitcher of water, and a stack of plastic cups.

"They can have some too," the redhead said, pointing at the Knights. "But they'll have to take off their masks. They should take them off anyway. The masks are scary and I don't like them. Armie, will you tell them to take off those ugly masks?"

"I can't tell them what to do," Hux said, trying to extricate himself from her clutching hand. He wasn't having much success. Ren was surprised at how calm he was about the whole thing. The Hux he knew would have shouted at her, shoved her aside, and thought nothing of it. Ren had heard shouting earlier, but it had obviously had no effect on this little girl.

"Are they your bosses?" she asked.

"No," Hux said.

The other girl set down the tray of snacks and the children swarmed around it. The redhead finally released Hux's hand, but returned to him immediately with a plate of snacks and a plastic cup of the water. Hux refused the offer of food, but she insisted, and so he nibbled on something while she happily ate the rest for him.

Ren was tempted by the food, but he chose not to partake. "I need to talk to all of you about something," he said.

The children looked at him, looked at each other, and sat down in a circle with him. The redhead dragged Hux into place in the circle and yanked on his hand until he sat down beside her. Ren watched, waiting for Hux to backhand her and tell her to back off, but he didn't. And then she climbed onto his lap.

Hux froze, and Ren saw some emotion flash across his face. Terror? Then he was scrambling to his feet, shoving the girl off his lap, and running out of the playhouse. The redhead chased after him, shouting, "Armie! Armie!" Ren heard Hux vomiting somewhere outside the door, and then the little girl asking, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Hux's voice was hoarse. "Just something I ate. I need to breathe for a few minutes. Go back inside. My friend wants to talk to you."

"Is he really your friend?" the girl asked.

"Yes. Go back inside."

The girl entered the playhouse, filled a cup with water, carried it outside, and returned empty-handed. She sat down at the empty place in the circle, but she was looking at the open door instead of paying attention to Ren.

Ren wondered what was going on between the two of them. He had never seen Hux act like this. As far as he knew, Hux hated children; the only thing he thought children were good for was raising to be perfect stormtroopers. He didn't think Hux saw them as little people; they were more like little pawns. It wasn't that Ren liked children any more. But he had never seen Hux this upset. Something strange was going on.

"I want to train you all in the Force," he said to the children. The little redhead was leaning sideways to try to peer out the door. He pretended not to notice.

"You're going to train us to be Jedi?" one of the middle boys asked with a huge smile.

"No," Ren said, and he knew that this was the moment. They would choose to accept him or reject him. "I want to train you in the dark side of the Force."

The children all looked questioningly at each other, and Ren wondered what they were thinking. He spoke again before they could.

"If you want to be a Jedi, you have to give up all your emotions. You can't be angry or lash out in anger. You can't form attachments. You can't love."

The little redhead was paying attention now.

"All the feelings you have inside you are not allowed. If you want to feel, turn to the dark side. If you want power, turn to the dark side," Ren continued. He remembered studying under Jedi Master Luke and being told that he was wrong for the feelings he had. He had tried to suppress them, but Jedi didn't suppress their emotions; they were too pure to have them in the first place. Ren was ruled by his feelings; he had always been like that. They'd set him up to fail. "On the dark side, you are your own master. There are no silly rules or restrictions. I will train you to be strong."

"Does Armie know you're on the dark side?" asked the redhead.

"We're on the same side," Ren said. He wondered if that would taint her adoration of Hux, but it didn't seem to.

"Can I go see if he's okay?" she asked.

This was getting annoying. "He's fine," Ren said. "It's just an upset stomach."

"How can you love if you're on the dark side?" she asked. "Aren't those kind of opposites?"

Ren wasn't sure how to explain, considering that he'd lost the ability to love when he'd killed his parents. Before that, he had loved intensely. But it wasn't the pure love that people without an official affiliation got to experience. "They're not opposites. It's just a different kind of love."

Their expressions were doubtful. They didn't quite believe him, but like most children, they had probably been taught that adults were right. Their upbringing told them to trust him because adults told the truth; their minds told them to question him. If they could think like that, they would be good allies. Hux would say the opposite; his baby stormtroopers weren't supposed to think.

Ren looked over his shoulder for the support of the Knights of Ren, who were standing behind him, but they were stoic and silent. They should want to have some input into the convincing of the children—they knew the dark side better than most; they had corrupted individuals before—but they stood silent and impassive. They let him do the work. Later he would give them consequences for not helping him, but this was not the time.

Before they could reject him completely, Ren looked over at the rack of practice weapons. "I can see that you've been training on your own," he said. He tried to sound complimentary and nonjudgmental. "Why don't you show me what you've been learning?"

The children were hesitant, particularly the little redhead, who was still looking hopefully at the door, as though she expected Hux to come back through it at any second. Ren was surprised he hadn't. But the oldest child—a boy in his early or middle teenage years—finally got up and picked up a staff. Ren expected one of the other boys to join him, but it was the little redheaded girl that extended her arm for a staff and called it to her hand with the Force. Distracted from Hux at last, she raised the staff and challenged the boy.

Ren was impressed. The boy was good—particularly for someone his age, and particularly for one without formal training—but the little girl was better. As they sparred, he used his superior size and experience, but she used the Force. Her innate abilities made her a formidable opponent despite her age and inexperience. Any other child her age would have been defeated immediately. She reminded Ren of himself when he was her age. If he could convince her to join the dark side, he could train her into someone great.

They finished their competition with the older boy's defeat. He seemed slightly annoyed that he had lost; she was buoyant with her victory. They returned their practice staffs to the rack and came back to join the circle.

"Well done," Ren said. He was unused to giving praise, but it was deserved. "It would be my honor to train you," he said. That was flattery, but he'd say what was necessary. "You can leave the people who rejected you behind...and punish them later."

The children were silent for a few moments. Then the oldest boy asked, "You would train us to hurt the people who left us here 'cause they were afraid?"

Yes! One of them understood. "Yes, I would," Ren said.

The boy looked down his nose at him, which was a challenge because he was much smaller than Ren was, and said, "Well, that's _wrong_."

The Knights, who had been standing silently behind Ren, stirred at this proclamation. Ren had hoped that they would be helping him convince the children, but they had chosen not to participate. Maybe now they were changing their minds.

"They were afraid," the oldest boy continued. "You don't hurt people who're afraid. They weren't nice to us, but we aren't going to _hurt_ them for it!"

The children made noises of assent.

Ren looked over at the door. Where was Hux? Hux could be helping him, since he'd built some kind of rapport with the children, but he hadn't returned. It was possible he'd returned to the new shuttle to avoid them—the children, the Knights, Ren himself. For a second, Ren wished he could be back there, too.


	22. Twenty-two: Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter! It's hard to believe I'm almost done posting this. I hope you enjoy!

As soon as everyone else was occupied with the discussion about turning the children into dark Force users, Armitage Hux returned to the new shuttle to pick up the bag of explosives he'd stashed there. The playhouse was the ideal structure to bring down on top of its occupants because it was constructed of stone and it had a loft perfect for setting the explosives. He'd have to sneak into the loft, set the explosives, and then get out of the way when he pressed the activator.

If only it were that easy.

He'd almost vomited again outside of the shuttle, and it still wasn't out of the question. He had never reacted physically to his emotions like this before. This was something Ren would do. Hux was calm, cool, collected, in control of himself. He had no volatile, uncontrollable feelings. He had no inner conflict. He wasn't like this.

It was the red-haired girl, Erie.

But he couldn't think about little red-haired girls now when he had important things he needed to be doing. He didn't have much time. The conversation between Ren and the children wouldn't last long because Hux knew they would reject his offer. This meant that Hux could wait for Ren's assistance if he only wanted—only needed to kill the children. But he was killing the Knights and Ren himself as well. He had to act while they were occupied inside the playhouse.

He slung the bag of explosives over his shoulder and tucked the activator into his pocket. Standing at the bottom of the outdoor ladder that led into the loft, he looked up and wished that he were anywhere but here. Why did he decide to do this? He could have left this well enough alone; he could have pretended he didn't know of the children's existence and let them grow up alone and isolated out here with no one to teach them and no one to love them.

"I'm doing the right thing," he whispered, and he started to climb.

At the top of the ladder, he pushed open the small door and crept inside. The floor of the loft only lined the outer portion, with a gap in the center. From up here, he could hear the conversation going on below him, but he would have to struggle to understand the words. He didn't want to understand them.

Hux was shaking as he stood near the wall. He just had to do this. He couldn't think about _her_. He couldn't think about any of them.

There were eight thermal detonators in his bag. He took out one and held it in his palm. He hadn't blown up a building before, but he had an idea of where to place the explosives. One needed to be close to the center of the structure. That would be the riskiest. He would plant that one first.

With one of the thermal detonators clasped in his hand, he crept toward the center of the room. Maybe he would activate them while he was still inside the playhouse. He would have achieved his goal of killing Force users and he wouldn't have to feel guilty about it for the rest of his life. No. That was foolish thinking. He had no reason to feel guilty. He was doing the right thing.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this.

He reached the edge of the loft, which was as close to the center as he could get, and was bending down to set the detonator on the floor—or just bending down to stretch; the detonator would still be in his hand when he straightened up—when suddenly Ren looked up. He saw Hux. He saw the thermal detonator. The expression on his face changed to one of fury.

Just as suddenly, behind him, the Knights of Ren activated their lightsabers and stepped forward to surround him. "You have betrayed us, Kylo Ren," one said. Hux could understand the words perfectly, but he couldn't tell which one had spoken. "And now you shall die."

Hux crouched down to make himself less visible. He didn't have much time. He needed to set the detonators before the Knights finished off Ren and left. But he couldn't move. He didn't want to watch, but his eyes remained fixed on the scene.

And then Erie stood up and shouted, "Don't hurt Armie's friend!" She extended her arm and one of the wooden practice staffs leapt into her hand. The other six children did the same, and the seven of them faced the Knights of Ren without flinching.

Ren stepped back, looking confused, but the children didn't need him. They attacked ferociously with their wooden weapons. Erie stabbed one of the Knights in the groin with her wooden staff and picked up the lightsaber that he dropped. She looked puzzled for a moment as she eyed the red plasma blade, but then she used it.

The children's attack was frantic and uncoordinated—they were only children, not seasoned warriors or strategists—but they fought the Knights like a group of smaller animals working together to take down a large animal, or in this case, several larger animals. Hux wondered if they would have the inner strength necessary to kill the Knights, and it seemed that Erie didn't, but the older boy—who had also won a lightsaber with the same tactic—was willing to kill. And when Ren joined in the attack, it was clear which side was going to win.

Hux looked at the thermal detonator still clasped in his hand. He couldn't do it. He'd never been able to do it; he was too weak, too cowardly. He stuffed the detonator back into the bag and concealed the bag in a dark corner. With the activator still in his pocket—thus ensuring that no one else could activate the detonators—he climbed down the ladder and went to the door of the playhouse.

Erie, exuberant, dropped the lightsaber and ran to Hux. "We saved your friend, Armie! You missed it!" she shouted and flung herself at him.

He caught her, almost stumbled and fell backward, and swung her around the way he'd seen fathers do to their children when he was a young child. His father had never done that to him, of course, and Hux had never had a chance. Then Ren emerged from the playhouse and Hux expected Ren to mock him for behaving like this with these children, but Ren walked past as if he didn't see Hux at all.

"Thank you for saving him," Hux said when he had set her down.

"Um, what do we do with these bodies?" asked the oldest boy. He was practical. Hux appreciated practicality. Unfortunately, he didn't have an answer.

"I suppose we'll take them with us when we leave," Hux said.

"We can levitate the bodies to your ship!" said one of the middle boys. He sounded far too excited about levitating dead bodies. He probably just wanted to see the inside of the ship, and Hux was thinking about letting him.

"All right, let's get them out of here," he said.

"Wait...are you leaving?" asked Erie.

"Yes, I'm leaving."

She looked like she was going to cry. "Can I—can I go with you, Armie? I promise I'll be good. Please?"

Hux knelt down beside her. "Where I live, all of the children are raised to be perfect soldiers for the First Order. They don't let you have any individuality, and they don't like the Force. You will be happier and safer right here with your friends." She did cry, and he hugged her gently, and then he said, "I'll come back to visit."

"You promise?" she asked.

"I promise."

"And you'll bring me a present?"

"I'll bring you something," he said. He didn't know what little girls liked, but he could ask. "Now help with these bodies and I'll let everyone see the inside of the shuttle."

With great effort, the eight of them completed the cumbersome task of transporting the bodies of the five Knights of Ren from the playhouse to the shuttle. They left the bodies in an unsteady pile in the cargo hold. Hux stood with his back to the entrance to the cockpit, where he was sure Ren was hiding, so that the children wouldn't creep in there.

After a few minutes, he said, "I need to leave now. Thank you for rescuing my friend. I...I'll come back to visit." He herded them off the shuttle and back in the direction of the house. Once they were far enough away, he returned to the shuttle and climbed into the cockpit. Ren was there, but he didn't look when Hux came in. "We're clear to leave," Hux said. And when Ren started making the usual preparations to take off, Hux slipped back to the passenger compartment. He sat down in the back corner.

At first, as he felt the shuttle lift off the ground, he thought he was going to be able to keep it together. He needed to keep it together.

He had destroyed everything between him and Ren, and he hadn't managed to kill him or the children. He had failed. But would success feel any better? If he had killed all of them, would he be happy now? Would he be satisfied? Or would he have a hole inside of him that could never, ever be filled?

He'd thought the years had filled the hole that had been torn open this afternoon. It had been almost eight years since she'd left him. Eight years since she'd taken his eighteen-month-old daughter—a beautiful little thing with pale skin and bright red-orange hair—and disappeared one night. He had been a terrible father, always away working, but he would have tried harder if he'd known she planned to leave.

He had liked reading to his daughter, cuddled on the sofa with his legs crossed and her wiggly body nestled against his belly. He'd had a small collection of children's picture books, which he'd kept hidden where no one from his work life could see that he owned How I Got Home on Tatooine ("I rode on a speeder, vroom vroom"), Where Is My Happabore? ("Is my happabore in the hut? No, he is TOO BIG."), Fixing My Starship ("I hit with my hammer, bang bang bang"), and What Does This Droid Do? ("This droid works in medbay. It makes sick people ALL better."). She had giggled and looked up at him with those big turquoise eyes and pointed at the speeder and mimicked him, "Broom broom." Those had been the good moments.

He didn't care for children now, but for a few hours he'd made an exception, and now he was being torn apart again.

He destroyed all the good in his life. Destroyed it or chased it away or left it behind. He had convinced himself that Ren must die, but he hadn't realized how much Ren meant to him. He didn't want to admit it, but he cared about Ren. He hadn't been able to kill him when the time came, but he had destroyed the fragile relationship they had built with each other. It was gone and he desperately wanted it back.

He felt tears welling up in his eyes and he fought them. He tried to analyze the feelings away, but he couldn't do it. He had feelings he couldn't label and they were all tangled up with each other in a mess he couldn't unravel if he tried. And he couldn't explain why he felt them, either. It was impossible. He was screwed up inside.

The tears tried again and he bit his lip in an effort to hold them in. It didn't help. Maybe one or two tears would be okay. He would cry a few tears and that would be enough. Then he could dry his face and pretend that it had never happened. Just a few tears.

One tear spilled over his eyelid and dripped down his cheek. Then a second dripped down his other cheek. And then the dam burst. Countless tears overflowed, dripped down his face, off his chin. His nose ran and he sniffled. His shoulders shook. This was not weeping a few tears; this was sobbing. He clutched his upper arms with his hands and wished he were in private, in his bedroom, where he could cling to his pillow and bury his face in the smooth fabric. Not here. Anywhere but here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I can count the surviving characters on the fingers of one hand now... >_>


	23. Twenty-three: Ren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the end. Thank you all for reading! <3

Holed up in the cockpit of the new shuttle, Kylo Ren was shaking with fury. He had known that Hux wanted to kill him. He had known that Hux intended to kill the children. But he hadn't known—he had neglected to dig deep enough to find out, and for that he was furious with himself—that Hux planned to kill all of them at the same time. It was no wonder he had been so concerned about all the Knights of Ren coming with them.

But it wasn't only Hux that was the subject of his anger. He had known that Hux would betray him if he got the chance. For a little while, he had thought they could trust each other, but he had been a fool. He had thought, however, that he could trust the Knights of Ren. He was their leader. He was their master! They were supposed to obey him, not betray him. And they thought he had betrayed them? They were fools. And he was a fool to have believed in anyone but himself.

To make things worse, he had been rescued by children. They hadn't even liked him; they had risked their lives to defend him because he was Hux's friend. _Friend_. And he had allowed this, allowed them to fight for him, for much too long as his mind tried to comprehend what was going on. He had killed most of them. He had killed his most loyal followers—whom he had believed to be loyal. He'd been wrong.

This whole trip had been a disaster. So much had fallen apart—or been ripped apart—in a few short hours.

A soft noise caught his attention and he turned his attention from his ruminations to his current surroundings. He didn't recognize the sound. He weighed his curiosity against his desire to avoid Hux. Curiosity won. He crept down out of the cockpit and into the passenger compartment.

At the far end of the passenger compartment, Hux sat on the bench that lined the compartment. His head was bowed; his face was buried in his hands. At first Ren thought maybe he was sleeping, but then he saw Hux's shoulders jerk and he realized that Hux was crying.

Ren stood in shocked silence as he watched Hux cry. He had no idea what to do. But, after watching for a moment, he realized he needed to do something. His first option was to leave and pretend he'd seen nothing. That was what he should do. But somehow, he couldn't just walk away.

Ren crossed the compartment and sat down beside Hux, who started and pulled away. Ren cautiously placed his hand on Hux's back and rubbed in slow, small circles. That was comforting, right? Perhaps it wasn't, or perhaps it just wasn't enough, because Hux pressed his hands tighter against his dripping face and shook convulsively.

Ren was out of his element. He felt like Hux must have felt in the kitchen; he had no idea what to do. Maybe it wasn't too late to back out, return to the cockpit, and pretend he hadn't seen anything. No, he couldn't do that. He knew misery and he knew that he'd want comfort if he was feeling miserable—even if the comfort came from his enemy. He remembered, from childhood, the hug.

Very carefully—ready to be shoved away—Ren put his arms around Hux and pulled him close for a hug. It was awkward—a foreign motion that he hadn't initiated outside of a sexual context in perhaps twenty years—but it felt good. He stroked Hux's hair, gently rubbed his shoulder, and felt him shaking. To this Hux responded, burying his face in the juncture between Ren's neck and shoulder.

"I'm—I'm s-sorry," Hux said in a quavering voice that didn't sound like his at all. "For all of it. For trying to kill you. For the memory you dug up—of my imagining forcing you to...to.... I never wanted that. I felt so g-g-guilty. And then I threatened you, and you'd been so...why are you nice to me, when I'm never nice to you? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm...so sorry."

Ren was stunned. He hadn't expected an apology. He felt better knowing that Hux had never intended to rape him, but how should he express that? Was a 'thank you' the proper response? Should he say he was glad? Or was it best not to acknowledge that specifically? "It's okay," he said lamely.

Hux tried to speak, but his voice cracked and he fell silent instead. Ren rubbed his back and pretended not to notice the wet spot he could feel growing on his shoulder. He held Hux through the shaking and hoped that he was doing this right. He was patient and gentle and he found some comfort of his own in the embrace. Maybe someday Hux would do this for him. The idea was laughable...but then he would have called this situation laughable as well.

It was at that moment that everything came tumbling down: his anger toward Hux, his fear, his need to see Hux dead, to kill him himself. Maybe it was the apology, or maybe it was Hux's obvious distress, but something in him changed. Hux could live.

"I—I need to stop cry—crying or I'll make myself s-sick again," Hux said, sounding somewhat more like himself.

Ren released him.

Hux took several deep breaths and seemed to get himself more under control. "I miss her," he mumbled, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"But you just met her," Ren said. He'd thought Hux was getting unusually attached to the little redhead, but he hadn't realized how bad it was.

"Not her," Hux said. "My daughter."

Ren shut his mouth before he could echo, ' _Your daughter_?' Hux had no daughter. If he'd had a daughter, Ren would have known.

"Eight years ago, my daughter's mother ran away with my baby daughter—eighteen-months-old—one night, and I haven't seen her since. I was a terrible father and I told myself she would've had a hard life if she'd stayed. I'd forgotten. And then I saw that little red-haired girl." Hux's voice was little more than a whisper at the end.

"Would you really have killed her?" Ren asked. He regretted it as soon as the words were out. That wasn't going to help. He didn't want Hux to start crying again.

"I don't know. No. I would have killed myself if I had." Hux lifted his head and looked at his soaking wet sleeve. "Do you hate me now, Ren?"

The question surprised Ren, and his answer did, too. "No. I knew you wanted to kill me. I wanted to kill you, too, because I knew I couldn't trust you. And you've proven me right. But when you're working with me instead of against me, we can do anything. And I like you. I don't know why, but I do. I'd beat up a stranger in a bar for you anytime without question."

Hux sniffed and his lips twitched into a smile. "I didn't know you remembered that."

Ren remembered taking great pleasure in the ensuing fistfight. It had been intense and exhilarating, fighting up close instead of a lightsaber blade away. He had won; he had successfully defended Hux; and they'd both been thrown out of the bar. "I haven't been in a fistfight since," he said. Then he asked, "Do you hate me?"

"I thought I did," Hux said, "but I don't." He sighed, sat back against the wall, and laid his head on Ren's shoulder. Ren relaxed and let it stay there for the rest of the duration of the return flight.

When the new shuttle dropped out of hyperspace in the vicinity of the _Supremacy_ , Ren slowly got up. He suspected that Hux had been dozing, and he hadn't been fully awake the entire time. Hux looked closer to normal. His face had returned to its usual color, but his eyes were still red and puffy.

"I need to talk to you about something," Ren said. It was important, but it would have to wait until he got the bodies in the cargo hold to the morgue.

"Come to my quarters in two hours. I'll order dinner special," Hux said.

"All right," Ren said. He looked at the bodies again. He would need a pallet of some sort to carry them.

"You're Supreme Leader, Ren. Get someone else to do it," Hux said over his shoulder as he left the shuttle.

Ren had not wanted to call attention to the deaths, but he didn't want to deal with these bodies on his own. He would choose people with discretion to transport the bodies. As for what he would ultimately do with them, he didn't know. Once they were in the morgue, he would have time to think about it.

After he had given orders to have the bodies moved and the shuttle cleaned, he returned to his own quarters. The first thing he did was strip off all of his clothes as he crossed from the doorway to the refresher, and step into the shower. He missed hot water showers, but the sonic was adequate and soothing. He let his mind drift, but he steered it away whenever it drifted toward the events of the day. He would think about those some other time.

By the time two hours had passed, he was restless and hungry. He couldn't wait for the gym to be available again so that he could work off all his extra energy. He had done his stretches, but there hadn't been enough space for anything more vigorous. He dressed in his uniform and made his way to Hux's quarters.

When Hux opened the door, he was clean and dressed in his uniform as if nothing had happened. "Dinner is here," he said and directed Ren to the tiny table in the living area of his quarters. Everything was clean and neat. There were a few personal touches, but no clutter and nothing out of order. As usual.

Ren seated himself in one of the chairs and Hux sat down across from him. Ren poked at his food with his fork—it looked delicious, but he wasn't focused on the food—and wished that Hux would say something first. He wasn't looking forward to saying what he needed to say tonight.

"I'm sorry," Hux blurted out, startling Ren. "For being untrustworthy and disloyal. We have to work together, not against each other. It's vital for the First Order."

Ren shifted uncomfortably. "That's what I wanted to talk about," he said.

Hux looked at him and waited. "Go on."

"I don't want to be Supreme Leader anymore," Ren said, almost too quickly to be understood. He saw the shock on Hux's face and rushed on. "I am so bored. I hate my duties. You get satisfaction and fulfillment out of yours. I need—I need to forge my own path."

Hux was dumbfounded.

"I'm going to train a group of stormtroopers and we'll scout around the galaxy for the good of the First Order," Ren said.

"And what about me?" Hux asked.

"You'll be Grand Marshal. Or Supreme Leader, if you want the title."

"You're abdicating," Hux said, as if he couldn't believe it.

"I want the ability to call upon your forces if I need them," Ren said.

"You're abdicating," Hux repeated.

"I thought you'd be happy," Ren said.

Hux looked down at his dinner. He poked a piece of meat with his fork, ate it slowly, and then looked back up. "I'm stunned." He paused. "I'll miss having you around."

"I'm not leaving. I may come and go sometimes, but I'm not...I'm not going to abandon you," Ren said.

Hux's reaction to that didn't show on his face, so Ren could only guess at the accuracy of his impression. He hadn't expected this sort of response to his confession. He had thought Hux would be overjoyed about gaining all the power he had ever dreamt of having, but he was definitely not overjoyed. Ren didn't think he was even happy. 

They finished dinner in silence. Ren tried to imagine that it was companionable silence, but it was awkward. He didn't know what else to say. As he consumed his last few bites, he realized that he had a way to cheer up Hux. It was an opportunity he hadn't expected to have, but this was the right moment for it.

As soon as Hux finished eating, Ren stood and rounded the table. He had plans for later, but he would start with the best kiss he could give. He would take charge this time, as he had in the wiring closet. He grasped Hux's chin between his thumb and forefinger—his forefinger on the tender underside and his thumb just beneath Hux's lips—and lifted his face for a kiss.

Hux shut his eyes obediently and let Ren take charge. Ren pressed his lips to Hux's lips, gentle for a moment as Hux yielded to him, and then faster, deeper, almost aggressive. Hux's breathing was coming in soft puffs. Ren laced his fingers through Hux's hair, stroking it, ruffling it in a way he knew Hux would fix as soon as he got the chance. He touched everything—from the soft spot behind Hux's earlobe to the curve of his cheekbone and the arch of his brows.

With Hux's mouth still captured by his lips, Ren explored downward with his fingers. He caressed the tender parts of Hux's throat and traced the line of his collarbone. His fingers caught the center zipper of Hux's uniform jacket and tugged it all the way down, revealing Hux's bare chest, no undershirt. He helped the shirt slide off down Hux's arms and left it in a pile on the floor.

"Come to bed," Ren said. He didn't give Hux a chance to hesitate or second-guess; he pulled him toward the bedroom. His heart was racing already and he imagined that he could feel Hux's pulse fluttering beneath the fingers around his wrist. That vulnerable expression was on Hux's face, but his pupils were dilated, his eyes dark with desire—desire that Ren felt, too.

Ren backed Hux up against the foot of the bed until he was forced to sit down on the edge of the bed. Then he knelt over Hux's lap, one knee on each side of Hux's slender thighs, and kissed him again, kissed him hard, occasionally blinking his eyes open to look at Hux's flushed face and blissful expression. He captured one of Hux's nipples between his fingers, rolled it gently, felt the skin stiffen and crinkle beneath his fingers, and listened to Hux groan through his nose.

Abruptly, he got up, leaving Hux panting on the bed, his eyes still closed. Ren pulled off Hux's boots and socks, unzipped Hux's breeches, and pulled those off with his underwear as well—everything he'd worn discarded on the floor. Hux's cock was already fully erect, almost touching his belly, with a drop of liquid beading at the tip. Ren liked his cock: slender, but a good handful, a perfect size to suck without choking on it. Ren wanted to touch it, to taste it, but he could do that later. He kissed the tip, licked off the drop of pre-come, and let it go.

Ren shrugged off his uniform jacket, yanked off his sleeveless undershirt, and abandoned both on the floor. His cock was hard, too, straining against his trousers, but he ignored it for the moment. He wanted to please Hux.

He knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed and draped Hux's legs over his shoulders. Hux whimpered; he knew what was coming. Ren spread the cheeks of his ass and dove in. He found the little pucker with his tongue and licked it with the flat, licked it with the tip, pressed his lips to it and sucked lightly on the delicate skin. Hux was whining, moaning, gasping, being louder than Ren had ever heard him. His heels dug into Ren's back. Ren wedged his face into the crack, probed inward with his tongue, and made indelicate slurping sounds as he ate Hux's ass—and enjoyed himself immensely.

Hux arched his back and squirmed on the bed, so that Ren had to grab his hips almost hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises in order to keep him still. Hux's enthusiastic response and obvious pleasure made Ren's cock even harder, painfully so, and he was desperate to touch it. His hands were busy; he would wait.

"Wait, wait!" Hux almost shouted, his body stiffening. His voice was strained and Ren knew he was fighting his building orgasm.

Ren lifted his head perhaps an inch. His breath still puffed against Hux's ass and he felt him shiver with every breath. "Why?" he asked. He knew the answer.

"I'm going to come," Hux said breathlessly. He sounded only mildly embarrassed.

Ren considered making him, but changed his mind and backed off. "Do you have lotion or something?" he asked. Much as he'd enjoyed eating Hux's ass, now that he had stopped, his cock reminded him that he needed attention as well. He could feel himself panting, though he had yet to touch himself.

Hux quivered. "Lube. In the drawer." His eyes were closed. His face and chest were damp with sweat. He looked exhausted, but in a good way. Ren hoped that he'd forgotten their conversation for the moment; he wanted Hux fully present for what he was going to do with him.

Ren released his legs for a moment to grab the lube out of the bedside table drawer. "How did you get lube?" Ren asked. He was embarrassed enough getting lotion.

Hux made a sound rather like a chuckle. Ren had never heard that before and it made him smile. "Medbay," Hux said. "I may have stolen it."

Ren laughed. It was so unlike Hux. He kicked off his boots, pants, and boxer briefs. Freed at last, his cock stuck straight out, his foreskin retracted. He wanted to touch his cock, to pump it, but he needed to be patient.

He returned to his place, positioned Hux's legs over his shoulders again, and squeezed a glob of lube onto his erection. He rubbed to coat it, and then touched his slick fingers to where his mouth had been moments earlier. Hux shivered and Ren knew he was nervous—he'd probably never been the receiving partner during sex before—but he hoped that Hux was excited, too.

Hux propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down at Ren's cock. "You're...big. Are you sure that's going to fit inside me?"

Ren smiled, but didn't laugh. "I don't know. I've never done this before."

"Neither have I," Hux said, and he lowered himself back down. "But I'm glad my first time is with you."

Ren kissed Hux's flat belly, and then inserted one finger and watched Hux bite his lip. He no longer looked apprehensive, but he did seem to be experiencing pain. Ren hesitated; he lowered Hux's legs back to the bed and knelt again. He nipped the insides of Hux's pale thighs, felt him twitch with each little bite, kissed his balls very gently, and then engulfed Hux's cock in his mouth. Oh, he tasted good. Ren lowered his lube-slick hand and stroked his own cock at a leisurely pace as he sucked on Hux's. Then, carefully, he inserted his finger again. When it was sunken completely in, he gently crooked his finger.

"Oh!" Hux cried. Ren repeated the motion several more times and Hux's body spasmed with each one. "Hu—hurry up!" Hux panted. "I'm not...going to last."

Ren inserted a second finger and thought Hux must be biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. "It's okay," he said softly. "You're doing great. I can't wait to get my cock inside you." He used his words as a distraction for a third finger and heard Hux whimper. But he didn't want to wait any longer—and he wasn't sure Hux could last much longer—so he withdrew his fingers and slowly and carefully pushed in his cock.

Hux yelped, and then shook his head at Ren's concern. "I'm fine. Just go." He was shaking, but all Ren felt was how amazingly, wonderfully hot and tight he was. Nothing compared to this. He began to thrust, moving slowly at first, and then faster. "It hurts, oh, don't stop, don't stop, harder, please, please—oh!" Hux's words were intermingled with his panting. His hands were in quaking fists around the sheets; he had gripped tightly enough to un-tuck and wrinkle the top sheet.

Ren planted his hands on the bed, kissed Hux on the lips, and thrust harder and faster. He wasn't sure he could stop if he tried. Hux returned the kiss almost fiercely, but then he threw his head back, panting, moaning, and cried out as he came. Semen splattered everywhere: on his belly and chest, on Ren's chest, even a little on his cheek.

Ren thrust into him harder, faster, more desperately. He wanted to finish, to come, to reach that apex of sensation, but he craved more of this feeling, this heat and tightness that he had never felt anywhere else. He knew why Hux liked it.

He was panting, too, rivulets of sweat dripping down his back, and grunting softly with each forceful thrust. Hux was pliant under him, almost limp, and he opened his eyes to make eye contact with Ren. He had beautiful blue-green eyes and Ren saw something different in them. Softness.

Ren knew he was almost there. So close. He tried to be gentle, despite the desire to ram. He thrust into Hux a few final times before he came, too, and collapsed. He slithered to his knees on the floor and stayed there until he'd caught his breath.

When he finally made it back onto the bed, Hux had moved up to rest his head on the pillow. He was almost asleep; his eyes opened halfway when Ren came up to him, and then closed again. Ren, knowing that Hux would never allow this when he was awake, curled his body around Hux, with Hux's back against his chest, and draped his arm over Hux's body. Hux sighed and cuddled closer.

Ren lay awake awhile as Hux slept soundly in his arms. He felt closer emotionally, more intimate, and he wondered if it was just the afterglow or if the sex had really changed things. Or had it been the conversation before it in which Hux had apologized? Something had changed. Even his physical position at the moment proved that.

He knew now that their relationship could never survive the conflict and competition of sharing the highest rank of the First Order, but he wasn't Supreme Leader anymore. Maybe, if he took the job he wanted, their relationship would be less stormy and more...more like this. Once life settled down again, he would reevaluate whether he could trust Hux. Maybe they would end up together in the end.

Maybe.

A thought came to his mind and Ren blurted, "I could look for her."

Hux stirred, tipped his head. "What?"

"When I'm out scouting, I could look for your daughter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:D
> 
> See you next time.


End file.
